


Prompto's Adventures In Celebrity Dating

by moonside



Series: Starstruck [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Barista Prompto, Blowjobs, Celebrity Noctis, Coffee Shop AU-ish, M/M, Porn With Plot, Promptis - Freeform, Riding, Romance, also cockslut prom, flexible Noctis, messy sex, powerbottom prom, things get extreme, top!prompto, trolldad Regis, wardad Cor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 129,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11212305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonside/pseuds/moonside
Summary: Noctis can't decide if Prompto's just messing with him, or if he's really that dense. The answer, of course, is that Prompto IS that dense. Ignis and Gladio are taking bets on exactly how far this goes.This is the story of how Prompto Argentum, poor part-time student, part-time barista, ends up landing one of Insomnia's hottest celebrities - without even realizing exactly who he's dating.





	1. Abstract

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter [found here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DFN_aPWUQAUGsbK.jpg) ! Artwork is by Numinoceur, story written by Moonside on Ao3 / Destatree @ Tumblr. Concept and plot is a joint collaboration of our twisted minds.

Prompto meets Noctis at a tea shop, of all places.

You know the type of place. Hole-in-the-wall. A bit hipster, a bit new-age, white-washed walls and sleek countertops. There’s a little room tucked in the back, with roughly-finished wooden tables and comfy, plush chairs, and a little bookshelf full of board games that are equal part obscure, ridiculous, and fun. Prompto’s thing is photography, and he’s going to college part time to take lessons on a scholarship, but he’s been dealt a shitty hand in life, and the rent’s gotta be paid.

So he works at this place, brewing teenage girls their overpriced milk teas that are mostly just sugar and endless scoops of honey-sweetened tapioca. The tips are good though, because Prompto’s all sunshine, all spiky blonde hair and freckles that have made him at expert at contouring. It’s not a half-bad gig.

This particular day, they’re about fifteen minutes or so from closing. It’s been a long day, but the evening crowd has finally lulled down. Prompto’s getting the equipment cleaned up, the pastry shelf has been emptied and washed, the few remaining cookies and cinnamon rolls stored on a plate and covered with cling wrap (Prompto’s low-key looking forward to taking them home, nevermind that he’ll need to run an extra few miles tomorrow), and he’s overall feeling pretty good.

The bell on the front door chimes, and Prompto barely looks up. Just enough to register that it’s a guy, and he’s alone.

And okay. Let’s pretend that we’re several months ahead here. Prompto really probably should’ve noticed that anyone wearing a dark hoodie and a ball cap at ten o’clock at night in a temperate location probably has a good reason for it.

Prompto, however, has worked a long day. His glasses are smudged. His hair’s a mess. He’s spilled tea down the front of his apron. So he doesn’t really notice at all, except that there’s a guy idling in front of the sign, looking over the drinks. That’s not unusual. Prompto’s learned when to be helpful and when to give someone their time and space. There aren’t any other customers, anyway. So he offers a half-smile, and goes back to slowly working through his closing-up list of tasks to complete.

After a moment, the customer approaches the counter. Prompto swoops over, with a friendly smile and a “hey, what can I help you with?” and then he notices, _immediately,_ that this guy is fuckin’ gorgeous. No other way of putting it. Just. Fucking. Gorgeous.

Dark, tousled hair, stormy blue eyes, perfect pale skin, lips that naturally quirk upward into a lazy, petulant smirk. They are dick-sucking lips, and Prompto hates himself for immediately thinking that, because what the hell is wrong with him? He doesn’t hit on customers, and it’s probably because it’s been one hell of a night. He’ll flirt with the young girls for tips, yes, but… well, he doesn’t pick up guys at work. Not his thing.

“Hey,” Mr. Dark and Brooding (as Prompto is thinking of him in his head) says, and his eyes drift down to the nametag displayed proudly on Prompto’s messy apron, “Prompto, is it? I know you probably hate hearing, this, but what’s good?”

Prompto absolutely hates that question. ‘Good,’ is very subjective. He gets the question all the goddamn time, and he has to play it up, all peppy and bubbling, and he _does_ like helping customers, but he hates it when they don’t give him something to work with. Because if they hate the drink, it’ll suddenly be his fault.

For some reason though, Prompto doesn’t mind a chance to talk with Mr. Dark and Brooding a little though.

“It’s Prompto,” he agrees, good-naturedly. His nametag is well-worn and he’s put a few stickers on the edges, a corgi eating a donut and a few hearts and sparkles. “Good depends on what you like. Most popular would be one of our strawberry lemonades, or the caramel milk tea if you like sweet milk teas.”

“Caramel,” Dark and Brooding says thoughtfully. He’s giving Prompto a look, one that makes Prompto feel a little uneasy, like maybe he’s missing something. “I’ll do that then.”

“ ‘kay,” Prompto rings the order in, “you want boba?”

“What? Ew. No. Have you _thought_ about the texture of that shit? It’s awful.”

Prompto laughs, “I mean, it’s kinda what we’re known for.” He swipes the man’s card, and okay, so maybe Prompto’s a bit of a dick, because he absolutely peeks at the name and pretends that he’s checking for a signature. _Noctis L. Caelum._ He has a name for Dark and Broody, and it’s Noctis. It’s a good name.

“My friend comes here all the time. Swears by your tea,” Noctis says, as Prompto hands the card back and he pockets it, “Not really my thing. But it looked like the place was empty, so…”

“Yeah, we close soon,” Prompto shrugs. It’s not an accusatory thing. Not at all, because at least if a customer’s busting in right before close, it’s someone he can look at. His shift partner left early anyway – she does it all the time, and Prompto covers for her, because he knows her home life isn’t the best – and so it’s just him.

“Sorry,” Noctis says as Prompto gets the tea brewing.

“It’s fine. It’s just me, anyway, and I have a ton of stuff to do,” Prompto shrugs, “do me a favour? Flip the sign to ‘closed’ and lock the door for me, and I’ll throw in a free cinnamon roll.”

Closing up early isn’t quite something Prompto makes a habit of, but he gets the feeling this guy wants to avoid people. Maybe he’s had one hell of a bad day. Prompto has half the mind to ask, but… well. He’s learned pretty early on as a barista to never ask anyone about their problems, cuz then he’ll be sitting there all day listening.

“Free cinnamon roll?” Noctis’s lips quirk and he outright laughs at that little quip. He does it though, and, true to his word, Prompto plates one of the precious remaining cinnamon rolls of the day. He makes sure to coat the insides of the cup with a good deal of caramel syrup, too – Noctis seems like the kind of dude to have a sweet tooth. Just an impression Prompto gets.

“Feel free to stay a while,” Prompto says when he presents Noctis with the tea and the plated pastry, “owner’s left me with a ton of shit to do, I’ll probably be here another hour or so.”

“Thanks, Prompto,” Noctis says, and the words sound genuine. He takes his tea and his pastry and he retreats to a table in the back. And true to his word, Prompto does have a ton of boring stuff to do. Lots of equipment to be fully scrubbed down and cleaned and dried, whiteboard to be erased and next day’s specials to be listed, inventory, counting the petty cash, the coin in the register, sorting out tips…

If Prompto wasn’t so oblivious, maybe he would’ve paid attention to the fact that this Noctis guy was on a very interesting phone call in the back, with someone named ‘Ignis,’ and ranting about a movie deal. Or maybe he’d notice that a few teenage girls were squealing over the nice car in the parking lot, one that was rumoured to belong to Noctis Lucis Caelum, Insomnia’s hottest rising movie star, and eligible bachelor.

  
Prompto’s got a good work ethic though, and he’s thinking about going home and finishing up with the photos he took earlier that day. The RAWs need a lot of work, still. And he’s gotta run in the morning… Noctis L. Caelum is a thought that barely crosses his mind. And when he does? It’s more along the lines of those nice lips and that goddamn _hair,_ and that flawless skin that Prompto is envious of. He’s gorgeous, okay, so what if that’s all Prompto can think of?

Prompto’s almost done his long list of closing chores when Noctis returns from the back room. His drink is mostly gone. “Tea was good,” he offers up, standing at the counter and leaning over, watching as Prompto mops up the floor.

“Good,” Prompto flushes, because he’s a mess, and he clearly looks it. Nothing like having a cute guy stare him down while he’s sweaty and tired and has soap bubbles in his hair.

There’s a bit of awkward silence, and then Noctis says, even more awkwardly, “hey. Uh. Can I see your phone?”

“What?” Prompto straightens, and puts the mop back in the bucket. He fishes around in his jeans pocket and pulls out his phone. It’s an older model, and pretty beaten up – he’s due for an upgrade. Noctis doesn’t say anything though, just takes the phone from Prompto, after he swipes past the lock screen, and thumbs over it for a minute.

When he hands it back, it’s on a freshly created contact, named ‘Noct’ and there’s a phone number.

“Text me,” Noctis says, and he smiles a smile that makes Prompto’s knees absolutely go weak.

“ ‘kay,” Prompto says in a quiet voice, in a tone that’s taken on a dreamy sort of quality. He watches as Noctis unlocks the door, and pokes his head out, before leaving out into the night with a final little wave.

Who the hell is this guy? It doesn’t matter though. Prompto’s oblivious to all the weird little signs, the fact that this guy obviously has money, and is obviously hiding from people, because okay. So maybe it’s been a while since a guy’s given Prompto his number. Lots of girls, yeah, and Prom’s not opposed to dating a woman, but… well. His preferences definitely land on a certain side of the line, and it just so happens to apparently be the same team that Mr. Noctis is batting for.

Prompto texts Noctis when he gets home. He’s well aware that it probably screams desperation. He manages to wait until he’s gotten a frozen dinner in the microwave, at least, and is settled down at his computer desk, before he’s whipping his phone out and typing up a super quick ‘hey it’s prompto from the tea shop :D '

There’s a couple of horrendous moments after he hits ‘send’ where Prompto realizes just how pathetic he is. Isn’t there etiquette behind this? He’s supposed to wait a certain amount of time? It’s late, after all. But… does he really care?

His fears are immediate assuaged anyway, because Prompto’s phone chimes with a response. And that’s how Prompto ends up getting absolutely no work done that night. That’s how he ends up curled up in bed, texting with this Noctis until 3 AM, shooting the shit, talking about a whole lot of nothing, and sharing a bunch of dumb memes and pictures of corgis that he has saved on his phone.

Finally, when Prompto’s eyes are heavy with sleep, after he’s managed to drop his phone on his face a couple of times when his hands give up and he nods off here and there, Noct texts, ‘I gotta sleep, work day tomorrow… u wanna get dinner?’

Prompto’s immediately awake, coursing with adrenaline. ‘yeah. I work til 7. can be ready for 7:30?’

‘txt me ur address. I’ll be there at 7:30’

And that’s how Prompto Argentum, a simple little barista at a hole-in-the-wall tea joint, a kid who’s scraping by almost entirely on tips, has two roommates, and goes to a local community college, ends up dating a trust fund brat-turned-celebrity, without even realizing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so for the record, this is all @Numinoceur on tumblr's fault. This is the writing prompt: 
> 
> "You’ve been dating your partner for six months. Tonight they’ve invited you to a work event, and as you step onto the red carpet, you realize it for the first time: you’re dating a celebrity."
> 
> So we'll be collaborating on this, I'm writing the antics, and with a lil bit of luck and sunshine (send some my way, Prompto~) there will be amazing, fantastic, absolutely wonderful art to accompany it! 
> 
> (yes, i'm working on ludic too i promise but i mean i can juggle multiple fics right? RIGHT???? sure. why not.)


	2. Gysahl Greens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis abuses status for chocobos.

It’s no secret that Prompto has not been on a date in a pathetically long time.

He has swiped right on a whole number of cute guys on dating apps. He’s matched with a few, too, but… well, Prompto’s well aware he doesn’t have a whole lot going for him. He doesn’t exactly have a glamorous job. He’s in school, yeah, but nine credit hours a semester at a community college in _photography_ doesn’t make him a very prospective future partner. Even though he’s only in his early 20s, Prompto has no real interest in hookup culture. He’s too introverted for that. Yeah, he’s got the bubbly exterior, and if he wants to, he’s sure he could be meeting people – men and women alike – at college, out partying on weekends, whatever. He runs (because it’s mostly free), and he works out on the cheap college campus gym from time to time, and he’s got the looks to prove it.

But Prompto’s happiest in front of his computer, editing photos, trolling around on Twitter, following celebrity gossip or political drama or whatever, and drinking cup after cup of shitty instant coffee. When he’s not doing that, he’s playing video games, or reading cheap, well-worn novels that catch his interest at the used book shop near college campus.

So – back on track, it’s been at least a year. The last date was with a girl, and it was a casual thing that lingered on for a couple of months, before Prompto realized he just wanted a guy to curl up and watch Netflix with.

Prompto doesn’t really know what to expect, either. His apartment isn’t a very far drive from the tea shop, so he gets home pretty fast. But it doesn’t give him enough time to get as properly ready as he’d like. He throws on a quick base coat of foundation, some eyeliner, makes quick work of ensuring his hair doesn’t look like total shit, and well, that’s as good as it gets. Prompto’s budget is stretched painfully thin now that he’s back in school, but he’s got a nice looking pair of jeans and a striped t-shirt. Casual, and also one of the only things clean in his wardrobe. Laundry day’s coming up, after all. He debates on the glasses, and ultimately goes with them, if only because Prompto’s too lazy to mess with his contacts.

“He asked _you_ out, Prompto,” Prompto tells himself in the mirror with a crooked smile. And that was at the end of a long shift, when he was covered in tea-stains and looked about ready to pass out. So! This could only be an improvement, right?

At 7:30, Prompto starts pacing in front of the door. At 7:36, his phone buzzes.

‘im outside’ the text says, and Prompto pockets his phone, takes a deep breath, steadies himself with all the confidence he can muster, and heads out into the parking lot outside his crummy little apartment building.

For a minute, Prompto does a double-take, because he’s pretty sure there’s no way in hell the car that’s idling in front of the door is here for _him._

Prompto isn’t a car guy. Not at all. He’s pretty good with his hands, and with tinkering with electronics, and he’s pretty sure that if he grew up a normal kid, with a dad who was into fixing up old cars or whatever the norm is, he’d probably feel a lot differently. But he’s pretty sure this is a nice car. It’s sleek and black and looks like it can go _really_ damn fast. Prompto’s pulse races a little, but the window rolls down, and sure enough, it’s that same gorgeous dark-haired man from the night before.

“Hey,” Noctis says with a lazy wave, “Sorry I’m late. Hop in.”

Prompto does his best to stay casual as he climbs into the passenger’s seat. The car’s interior is just as sleek, the seats a comfortable black leather with sporty red trim. The front console is fancy, with a touch screen, and a logo that looks like a trident. It makes Prompto’s head spin a little, and he suddenly feels very underdressed, even though Noctis is just wearing a pair of torn jeans and a sleek black button-down shirt that’s rolled up to his elbows.

“This is a _really_ nice car,” Prompto says, quite lamely, as he buckles up.

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, “I’d rather drive my dad’s car, honestly, but he doesn’t let me borrow it much since I moved out.”

The car roars to life and Noctis pulls them out of the parking lot and down the street. Prompto fidgets a little. He has a very bad feeling that this car is probably worth more than literally every possession he owns. Prompto’s own car is an old beater he got for a thousand from a guy he worked with at his old job, and it breaks down just enough to be unreliable. It’s also probably going to fail the safety inspection he has coming in a couple of months. He’s got a bike though, and he’s close enough to both work and school that he usually just bikes around.

“So, what do you _do?”_ Prompto tries to sound casual. His voice squeaks a little.

Noctis casts a side-glance in Prompto’s direction, gripping at the wheel as he catches the next ramp to the freeway. “I’m kinda between gigs right now.”

He’s unemployed? Prompto finds that really hard to believe.

“You texted me last night and said you had to work today.” Really smooth, Prompto, calling the cute guy out on a bluff. He’s clearly trying to self-sabotage, but Prompto doesn’t think he’s desperate enough to date a liar anyway.

Noctis laughs a little, and he seems caught off guard. “You remembered what I said at 3 AM? Either you really like me, or you have a good memory.”

“Maybe both,” Prompto pretends that he feels as bold as he’s talking. Inside, he’s screaming.

“I’m finishing up a job. Don’t have another one lined up yet,” Noctis offers in response to that, and he looks amused. Okay. So maybe the boldness is paying off. Prompto’s still incredibly doubtful of all this. But. Well. Everyone has a story. And Noctis, despite his vague words and the story that doesn’t quite match up with the nice car he’s driving, seems like a trustworthy person. Prompto thinks he’s got a decent eye for people. He obviously can’t read minds, or totally figure a person out right away, but this Noctis, he seems like he’s nice enough. And, well, the fact that he’s drop dead gorgeous maybe contributes to Prompto’s feelings here.

“You?” Noctis asks, and Prompto flushes a little in response.

“Trying to get through college,” he admits, “mostly just working at that tea place though. Rent around here’s… kinda pricy, y’know?”

“Your parents don’t help you out?” They hit traffic, and Noct looks fully over at Prompto as the car slows to a steady crawl.

“Don’t have any,” Prompto laughs it off, “and don’t apologize or act weird or anything about it, alright? It’s just how it is.”

“Right,” Noctis frowns, and the way his lower lip is jutting out makes Prompto feel very warm, his cheeks flushing for very different reasons now. Goddamn, those lips are gonna be the end of him. The absolute end. And if Prompto knew enough to google Noct’s name, he would find out that there were many, many girls on the internet who shared that exact sentiment. Said girls, however, didn’t luck out enough to end up in kissing proximity. Which, let’s be honest, is a blessing for Prompto.

“My mom died,” Noctis says suddenly, and that breaks Prompto out of his reverie with a sharp jolt. “… and don’t say you’re sorry, huh?” he mimics Prompto’s words right back at him. “Happened a long time ago. Point is… I kinda get it.”

Prompto has to shake his head a little, and laugh. Whoever Noctis is, Prompto _likes_ him. This is probably the moment where he realizes he _likes_ likes him. More than he’s thinking about those lips (and he’s still low-key thinking about those lips, and getting them wrapped around certain places), or the silly fun they had texting each other, or the nice car and the way Noct’s forearms look with his dressy shirt rolled up…

Shit. He _likes_ this guy.

“So,” Prompto changes the subject, and quick, “we getting food?”

“That’s the plan,” Noct agrees, “what you in the mood for?”

Prompto groans a little. He checked his bank account before he left work, of course. What he’s in the mood for, and what he can feasibly afford are very much at odds. And sure, this is a date, he’s pretty sure, but that doesn’t mean that Prompto assumes Noctis is going to be paying for anything.

“Burgers sounds good,” Prompto settles with saying, “even better if it’s burgers that don’t make my rent check bounce.”

Noctis rolls his eyes. The traffic is still painfully slow, so he merges right at the first chance he gets, and takes the next exit they come to. “I might drive a douchey kind of car, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to ask you out and then make you pay.”

“You sure?” Prompto catches the corner of Noct’s eyes as he looks up. Whatever is up with Noctis, he just said he was between jobs, and Prompto’s not the kind of guy who’s gonna take advantage of someone unemployed.

“Positive,” Noctis laughs, “and if it’ll make you feel better, we’ll go through a cheap drive thru or something.”

“Sounds like a perfect compromise,” Prompto grins. He hasn’t treated himself to fast food in weeks, partially because the calorie content is astronomically high with greasy burgers, but mostly just because money is tight. He’s looking forward to this a whole lot.

True to his word, Noctis finds a half-decent chain restaurant with a drive thru, one that’s not outright scraping the bottom of the barrel in decency. It’s cheap enough though that Prompto doesn’t feel too guilty about the fact that a cute guy is buying him dinner. Prompto’s got stars in his eyes though. There’s really just something about Noctis that he can’t place. Yeah, he’s realizing very quickly that he likes Noctis. And Prompto’s the kind of guy who falls fast and hard, and even though he recognizes this, and knows he shouldn’t – he’s daydreaming a little, thinking about how nice it’d be to sneak his hand over and curl his fingers around Noctis’s, or to run his hands down his chest, to feel that soft fabric of the button-down shirt he’s wearing.

It’s probably why Prompto doesn’t notice that the employee in the window outright asks Noctis for an autograph. Prompto’s in his own little world, one where maybe he’ll go back to Noct’s place for the night, and he’s not a slut, and sex on the first date is absolutely _not_ what Prompto’s into, and he’ll say no if the opportunity comes up but… he can think about it, right? He’ll probably think about it with his hand later, after he gets home.

They eat their food in Noct’s car, and Prompto’s very, very careful not to spill anything on the upholstery. Naturally, a big glob of ketchup falls right onto the seat, just because the world hates him and wants to prove him wrong.

“Oh my god,” Prompto says, because it’s like slow-motion, watching the ketchup blob wobble and quiver and slowly drip off the end of his fry and splatter right onto the nice, fancy leather of the passenger’s seat. “I am _so_ sorry.” That’s it, here’s the end of the date, and well, it was a very nice date while it lasted, and Prompto is far away from his apartment, and he doesn’t have enough money to take a cab home, and…

“Chill,” Noctis rolls his eyes and hands over a napkin, “doubt it’ll stain. And if it does, I get it cleaned every month anyway. Whatever.”

Prompto almost chokes as he takes the napkin and dabs it against the seat. He follows it up with a big gulp of his diet soda and that just makes him choke and sputter a little more, and could this date get _any_ worse?!  
  


Noctis watches him with amusement though, and reaches out to put a hand on Prompto’s shoulder, and it’s a _nice_ hand, it’s warm, and Prompto’s pretty sure Noctis must get a fuckin’ manicure because his nails look way nicer than any guy’s shoulder, and…

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Prompto says weakly, and he pretends he’s not leaning into Noct’s hand a little like the pathetic, desperate guy he is. “Thanks, Noct… it’s okay if I call you that, right?” That is, after all, how Noctis entered himself into Prompto’s phone contacts.

“Yeah. My friends call me Noct,” the response is careful, maybe a little calculated. Prompto feels like he’s floating. Friends? They’ve just met, after all. Is that what they are? Is that Noctis’s way of letting him down lightly? Well, at least he’s gotten a free meal out of the whole deal, right?

Prompto’s pretty sure that being friends with Noctis isn’t the end of the world, though. Even if the guy’s gorgeous. Even if he’s _still_ thinking about those damn lips and all the terrible, dirty things they could be doing in this very fancy car. Hell, as much as Prompto keeps thinking about Noctis and those lips, even more appealing is the idea of seeing what Noct’s got going for him under those jeans of his. Prompto lifts another French fry to his lips, and maybe he’s doing really lewd things to it, licking the salty away and slowly curling his tongue around the soggy potato as he eats it, thinking about it being heated flesh instead of mushy fried food and…

“Are you eating that fry or fucking it?” Noctis blurts out suddenly, and Prompto flushes bright red. What can he say there? He’s moved on to pretending that his dinner is Noct’s dick?

“Well, don’t see you suggesting something better to do on this date,” Prompto chirps back, a sudden surge of bravery inspiring him. It’s mostly because he thinks – thinks – that he saw a flash of something in Noct’s eyes. Desire, maybe? Okay, so this might go somewhere yet. Prompto isn’t sure. He is having fun though.

Noctis laughs a little, and shrugs, and reaches to steal one of Prompto’s fries. Their fingers brush together, greasy and salt-stained, and it’s a little jolt of pleasure shooting up Prompto’s arm all the way to his tingling elbow. “Dunno what you like yet. Still trying to figure you out.”

_I like you,_ Prompto thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He really likes Noctis. He doesn’t wanna fuck this up.

But Prompto’s also a child at heart in some ways. He tips his head back, tries to think of exactly where they are, and what’s nearby, and his mind immediately settles on something. Something important. Well. Prompto-level important. So in the grand scheme of things, not very. Still. Prompto drops his mostly-eaten box of fries back into the fast food bag at his feet. He straights.

“Okay,” Prompto says suddenly, inspired, and he’s smiling and blushing at the same time, “I’ve got an idea. You have to _promise_ not to make fun of me though. Promise.”

Noctis looks equally parts intrigued and wary. He leans back in his seat and puts his milkshake back into the cup holder. “Whatever you wanna do. First date etiquette, you call the shots.”

Prompto’s not too sure about etiquette, but oh well ,whatever, he goes with it. “So uh. There’s totally this petting zoo in the park a few blocks down… I know that sounds dumb, but like. They have _chocobos,_ Noct.”

The silence in the car is tangible. Prompto flushes even deeper as Noctis leans forward, trying to assess what he’s just said, if he’s being serious here. Prompto is, of course, being absolutely serious. He’s got an infatuation with animals in general, especially since he’s too poor to have a pet of his own, but he’s got a very special soft spot for the big feathery birds, and it’s been _years_ since he’s gotten to see one proper…

“This is the worst first date ever, you know,” Noctis says after that long pause, but there’s amusement in his voice, and he sounds defeated, resigned to his fate. He passes his phone over to Prompto, the navigation map already open on the screen. “Plug it into maps, and we’ll go.”

Prompto grins brightly. He leans over in a sudden rush of courage, and gives Noctis an awkward, one-armed hug, hanging halfway over the seats. “Best first date ever, you mean.” Prompto’s all smiles, and it must be contagious though, because Noctis smiles back.

It just so happens that when they arrive at the little dumpy chocobo ranch in the park about a mile down the road, they’re about to close up for the night. The sun’s setting, and the gate’s not closed yet, but the sign proclaims that they’re closing in five minutes, and they’ve already missed the last entrance time.

“That sucks,” Prompto whines as they pull into an empty parking spot right in front of the gate. The employee there, a female girl around Prompto’s age, shoots them a dirty glance. Prompto, as a fellow minimum wage retail slave, recognizes that look, because normally it’s the one he wants to give to customers who arrive right at closing.

“Hang on,” Noctis says, with a confident little smile, “I’ll talk to her. If we’re quick I bet they’ll let us in.”

Prompto nods. He has very low expectations. As he watches though, he sees a big fluffy chocobo sidle up along the fenced in area, and Prompto does a little half-flail in the car as he bounces in his seat and watches. If he was paying attention to Noctis, of course, Prompto would’ve realized that the girl’s expression went from unimpressed to absolutely _stunned_ the second Noct got close. Prompto might’ve found it very interesting that Noctis was posing for a few selfies with the girl, and that she was very eagerly opening the gate up to let them in.

But Prompto’s too busy watching the dumb chocobo waddle around. It promptly takes a shit. Prompto still thinks it’s the cutest thing _ever._

“Come on,” Noctis opens the passenger’s side door for Prompto, and offers him a hand, smiling. “She says if we’re quick and don’t bug them we can stay while they’re closing up.”

“This is,” Prompto says dreamily, “the best first date _ever_ Noctis.”

“Damn better be. Pretty sure I’ve already got mud on my shoes,” Noctis feigns grumbling and annoyance as Prompto climbs out of the car and, holding his hand tightly, outright drags them into the enclosed area where the chocobos roam around.

First things first, and no getting around it: chocobos smell bad. _Really_ bad. Especially at the end of the day, when their area hasn’t been mucked yet, and the birds are muddy and smelly and covered in gysahl green remnants. Prompto’s vaguely aware of that fact, just as he’s vaguely aware of the employees of the place subtly watching them and snapping photos from a distance. He’s aware of the fact that a good deal of chocobos are mean, too, and one of them definitely doesn’t seem to like Noctis very much, because it keeps strutting towards them and puffing out its feathers and making a very undignified squawking sound.

“Fuck you too, chocobo,” Noctis grumbles, but Prompto only shoots him a very unhappy look.

“Hey. He’s _precious,_ don’t be mean!”

“Me be mean?! That bird hates me! Doesn’t he know who I _am?!”_ and maybe Prompto should’ve put more thought into those words, because that’s very much implying that Noctis is someone that Prompto should recognize. Like, you know, maybe a famous movie star. Maybe a celebrity Prompto’s seen a thousand times on his Twitter list, or trending on the Facebook sidebar, or whatever. Maybe. It’s a long shot.

Instead, Prompto spots the little nesting area in the back of the enclosure. “ _Noctis! Babies!”_ he squeals with an absolutely unreasonable amount of enthusiasm.

It’s a miracle in itself that Prompto doesn’t get mauled or pecked to death by an angry momma bird, but these particular chocobos, moody as they are, have been trained to deal with small children poking and prodding at them, which is pretty much what Prompto is doing now. He kneels down happily, and the baby chicks swarm him, looking for food.

“Hey there, lil buddies,” Prompto grins happily, “I smell like fries, huh? Left them all back in the car, oops…” He’s in heaven. This is the best day of Prompto’s life. The baby chocobos are little fat balls of soft, downy baby fluff, making quiet little peeping noises, and it’s probably the pinnacle of happiness in Prompto’s sad existence. He can die happy now. Nothing will beat this moment, not ever. Especially when the little black chocobo tries to flutter up into his lap, but of course its sad little wings don’t work right, and Prompto turns into a near-sobbing mess of happiness.

“Noctis. Noct. Is this real life?”

Noctis has absolutely whipped his phone out. He’s trying really hard not to laugh, and he’s snapped about a million photos of Prompto, surrounded by baby birds, squealing and flailing and Prompto should really be embarrassed to all hell about this, but he’s _not._ He’s stupidly happy, even though the chocobos are nibbling at his fingertips and one particularly feisty one is chewing on his shoe and has already shredded the lace up nicely.

“It definitely _smells_ like we’ve died and gone to hell,” Noctis teases, but Prompto only rolls his eyes. He wants to stay here forever. Hell, he _wants_ a chocobo. He’s pretty sure his lease doesn’t allow goldfish, let alone large birds that shit everywhere and smell terrible. Someday, though…

“Do you have any idea how perfect this is?” Prompto says as he drags himself away from the chocobos reluctantly – and mostly because the employees seem to be ready to close up for real. He’s not sure how Noctis even convinced the people working to let them in anyway. Prompto knows how fucking shitty it is to be stuck after closing because there’s that one customer who won’t leave.

When they get out of the little chocobo ranch – and after Noctis insists like four times that Prompto use the damn hand sanitizer after touching the birds – Prompto’s still all bright eyes and smiles. Maybe that’s what makes him feel bold, brave, like he can do _anything_ and succeed. It’s enough that he reaches for Noct’s hand, and not with the pretense of dragging him around this time. It just feels nice. It feels right.

“I know it’s dumb,” Prompto confesses with a little laugh as they lean up against the side of Noct’s too-nice car. “But… that means a lot to me. That you’d entertain my dumb obsession.”

“Honestly?” Noctis shifts them, so Prompto’s pressed up against the side of the car, Noct’s hand braced on the door next to his head, and he’s leaning over him. “It was pretty cute. I like you, Prompto.”

“Yeah?” Prompto’s heart pounds in his chest. Maybe he should’ve paid a little more attention to Noct’s body language – the way the other man carefully looks around, to see if there are any other cars in the parking lot, or anyone idling nearby. Prompto’s just focused on how he can almost feel the heat of Noct’s body pressed up close. The glint of his eyes. And hell, Prompto goes for it. He reaches a hand out, curls it around the back of Noct’s neck, and tugs his face forward to catch his lips – those goddamn lips he’s been thinking about all damn night – in a heated kiss. It’s a _really_ good kiss, too. It’s like Noctis knows what he’s doing. And Prompto? Well, he knows a thing or two involving his tongue. Their lips melt together, tongues curl in wet heat, and it leaves Prompto’s head spinning when they part.

“I like you too, Noctis,” Prompto says thickly, with a little smile.

“Most people do,” Noctis laughs, “comes with the territory.”

Prompto blinks. He’s not quite getting it, and he thinks that maybe something’s gone over his head. “What territory?” he asks blankly, a slight frown playing over his lips.

Noct stares for a long moment, then laughs again, “fuck. Forget about it,” and he goes in for another kiss, long and lingering, one that has Prompto exercising all his self control to keep from hoisting a leg up around Noct’s waist or jutting his hips forward. It’s a good thing Noctis takes him home after, because Prompto’s pretty sure he’d throw out that whole ‘don’t put out on the first date’ rule. It’s okay though. Hopefully there will be a second date.

When Prompto gets home and checks his Instagram account, he momentarily pauses, because apparently there’s some chocobo-related photo trending on some stupid celebrity’s account. He almost clicks it. But then a text message notification from Noctis pops up, a simple ‘miss u’ and it’s all forgotten. Prompto falls into bed, phone clutched to his chest, sighing dramatically, romantically, and he’s absolutely lost. He’s a mess. He’s fallen hard for this Noctis guy, and he knows absolutely next to nothing about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. noct is totally driving a maserati.
> 
> 2\. prompto has an oral fixation~ noct's got some good stuff comin' his way~ 
> 
> 3\. for some reason i just pictured them sitting in an in n out parking lot thru most of this, probably because i live in southern california, and this whole fic just has a very LA/hollywood-esque feeling even though clearly it's an Insomnia AU. 
> 
> 4\. i'm absolutely floored by the feedback this story got on ao3 and tumblr, holy crap you guys are awesome, thank you so much for the reblogs/likes/kudos/comments, everything. i'm on tumblr @destatree. <3


	3. Celebrity or Serial Killer?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct spoils Prompto, and now Prom owes him a very expensive blowjob in return.

There are several moments when Prompto tells himself that he needs to take a good step or two back. That he really, really needs to calm the hell down about Noctis. Date number two comes and goes. It’s a trip down to the beach, and they eat from a little seafood place near the water that sells pretty good fish and chips, then they walk along the beach. Prompto manages to keep his pants on through it, at least, though there’s a couple more of those really good kisses. And okay, maybe after the second date, Prompto has a date with his fist in the shower after, and it’s Noct’s name that he’s gasping out quietly as he spills over his own fingers.

Date number three gets postponed, because apparently Noctis has a new job. Prompto wonders if he should ask about it, but he’s not entirely convinced that Noctis isn’t ghosting him, and he doesn’t really want to push it. It’s still the desperately happy ‘new relationship’ stage where he’s on his best behavior, and Prompto’s doing his best not to be clingy, or desperate, or needy. In reality, he is probably all three.

So he hasn’t seen Noctis in a few days. They’ve been texting still, but Noct goes long periods of time without replying sometimes, and when he does reply, even though it’s just text on a screen, Prompto gets the distinct idea that he’s tired. So he waits, and he busies himself with his photography assignment. And maybe he mopes a little. Just a little.

Of course, Prompto gets called into work to cover a shift on the same day that his poor cell phone finally shits out on him. The battery’s fried, or maybe the connector port is just loose, or dead, but whatever the reason, the effect is the same. His phone mostly stops charging. Shit luck. Prompto sighs, and he packs his phone charger in his bag with him and plugs his phone into the wall in the break room, but it barely holds a charge, and works for about twenty minutes after he unplugs it before shutting it off again. That’s a headache that Prompto doesn’t wanna deal with, because he absolutely can’t afford a new phone right now.

It’s that precious hour in the evening where nobody comes by, right after dinner, but before the later night crowd, when Noctis shows up. Prompto’s not working alone tonight, but his coworker’s in the back cleaning up when Noct steps in. He looks tired, but good, dressed in a plain dark t-shirt and black slacks, and Noctis’s face lights up when he sees Prompto behind the register.

“Hey,” Noctis says, sauntering over. Prompto licks his lips. He’s missed Noctis. A lot.

“Hey, yourself,” Prompto greets back, and he leans across the counter, even though he shouldn’t. Noctis absolutely takes the invitation and leans in too, catching his lips in a quick kiss, one that makes Prompto’s head spin. Again. They’ve kissed enough times that the warm, fluttery feeling really should be fading, but it’s only getting stronger.

“I texted you, and you didn’t answer,” Noctis cuts right to the chase, apparently.

Prompto flushes a little. “Did you? Sorry. My phone exploded. Won’t charge. I can get it to work for like, ten minutes at a time.”

Noctis frowns, “that’s not good. You need a phone.”

Prompto shrugs and offers up his best cheerful laugh, “it’s okay,” he teases, lighthearted about it, because he doesn’t really have a choice in the matter, “I’ll just carry my charger with me! It works fine otherwise. Probably just need a new battery. You want the caramel tea again?”

“Yeah, caramel’s fine,” Noctis says idly, waving off the casual talk, “you do realize phone batteries are almost as expensive as an entirely new phone, right?”

Prompto doesn’t bother to ring in the tea. He’s not above giving his sort-of boyfriend (are they boyfriends now?) a free drink. “Guess I’ll be dealing with the charger for a while then!”

Noctis frowns again. Even the grumpy look is a good look for him, makes him look even more dark and brooding and handsome, and it turns Noct’s big blue eyes into dark stormclouds, or some other waxy poetic shit. Either way, Prompto likes looking at him. He’s very expressive. “Take my card, Prompto, I wanna pay for the drink,” Noctis grumbles, “and we’ll figure out something about your phone. You can’t just live without one.”

Prompto sighs and takes the card. He doesn’t bother to read the name on it this time, since he knows Noctis now.  He also doesn’t pay attention to Noctis signing on the iPad touch screen they have set up. He definitely doesn’t notice the significant (we’re talking three figures here) tip that he leaves on his $5 drink. The tips are split between the employees on duty, but it’s just Prompto and the lucky girl in the back here, so it’ll work out to a pretty significant amount. Prompto will lose his shit about that next paycheque he gets, but for now? Oblivious.

“When do you get off work?” Noctis asks as Prompto prepares his drink.

“Half an hour,” Prompto says. “Not soon enough.”

Noctis laughs. “I’m gonna hang around. Do some shopping. How about I pick you up after work? I’m tired, but maybe we can hang out for a while, if you want…”

Prompto almost burns himself on the boiling water, because his heart skips a beat in his chest and his hands tremble. Yeah. Of course he wants that. “If you’re tired,” Prompto replies carefully, trying to focus his attention on the drink he’s brewing up, “we don’t have to go anywhere. My place isn’t far and my roommates should be out. We can hang out at my place. If you want.”

“Yeah,” Noct’s reply is instant, and Prompto swears he hears just the slightest hitch to his voice, “that sounds good. I’ll come pick you up in half an hour?”

Prompto biked to work today. His bike’s stored in the closet off the staff room in the back of the shop, and the owners don’t care that he keeps it there. Yeah, he’ll probably have to walk to work to retrieve it, but Prompto’s not about to try and shove his shitty old mountain bike in the back of Noct’s car. That’ll work.

“Yeah, sounds like a date,” he agrees cheerfully. He hands Noctis over the drink. Extra caramel, just like last time.

Noct grins and waves as he makes his retreat. Prompto’s coworker, a cute girl by the name of Luna, pops her head out from the back just in time to see Noct’s back exit out the door.

“Hey,” Luna says with a strange, distant look, “you know who that guy looks just like…?”

“That’s my boyfriend,” Prompto tells her, his heart thumping happily in his chest, already lost in the daydreams of the perfect night to come. Okay, so they’re not officially boyfriends, but Prompto thinks, maybe, that they’re getting there.

“Your boyfriend?” Luna frowns. “Huh. Nevermind then. Could’ve sworn he was someone else.”

—

True to his word, Noctis is waiting, idling in an empty parking spot outside, when Prompto finally gets out. He’s running about ten minutes late, but Noctis doesn’t comment when Prompto slides into the fancy passenger’s seat of the sleek black car. Prompto feels kinda gross sitting here with his sweaty undershirt on and his dirty apron bunched up and tucked under his arm. Noct doesn’t comment about that either, though.

“How was work?” Noctis says conversationally as he backs out and makes the drive to Prompto’s place. He doesn’t ask for the address again, or bother to map it, and for some reason Prompto notices that fact, and it means everything that Noct has bothered to remember where he lives.

“Busy,” Prompto sighs, “we were doing a promotion, free scoop of boba… you’d be amazed at how many people wanna spend money on a drink just to save a bit off the top…”

“Sounds like we both need a relaxing evening then,” Noctis smiles a smile that makes Prompto’s heart do that thumping thing again, eager and strong against his ribcage. “Hey. By the way. I got you something. Bag in the backseat.”

“Yeah?” Prompto blinks, confused. He waits until Noctis is stopped at a light – a lefthand turning lane, so they’ll be here a little while – and turns in his seat, straining the seatbelt and twisting around to grab a plastic bag from the nearby electronics store. Prompto’s stomach does a little flip. His heart keeps doing that thumping thing. Noct’s getting him gifts?

“Dude. No fucking way can I accept this, Noctis, holy shit,” Prompto’s eyes are wide as saucers, he’s sure, as he pulls out a box, shrink-wrapped and obviously brand new, to a fancy new smart phone. One that’s several models newer and nicer than the shitphone Prompto has.

Noctis rolls his eyes and laughs, and he takes one hand off the steering wheel, leaning over to brush his fingers over Prompto’s. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. I started a new job and my dad transferred me some money, okay? It was on sale. Really good deal, I promise.”

Prompto’s incredibly skeptical of that, because he’s sure if a brand new phone (the model just came out a few months ago) was on sale for a significantly lower price, it would’ve been advertised. And they would have sold all the models already. He still doesn’t really know what Noctis does, but… well, with his nice car, and his nice clothes, it’s starting to make Prompto’s head spin. He feels dizzy. A little like he’s going to throw up.

“I… if you’re sure,” Prompto says lamely, his voice a little weak. “Yeah. Okay. I… thanks, Noctis, this is kinda a huge deal, y’know?”

Noctis smiles. On impulse, Prompto reaches for his hand, and their fingers tangle together.

“You can make it up to me later, if you really want to,” Noct’s voice is low and he makes a wide, one-handed turn into Prompto’s apartment building parking lot as he says it. Prompto swears he sees the faintest hint of a flush crossing Noct’s gorgeous, perfectly pale cheeks. He groans a little, and he shifts in his seat. It finally hits Prompto, exactly what he’s done. He’s invited Noctis to his apartment. They’re going to be home alone. His roommates had already told him about some party they were going to tonight, and it’s probably going to be wild. They won’t be home. Prompto has a bed that they can curl up in together, and suddenly his palms are sweaty and his mouth is dry.

“It was a joke, Prompto,” Noctis breaks through Prompto’s panicky thoughts, and even though Prompto’s now staring down at their hands, still pressed together, he can outright hear the eyeroll.

“I mean, the phone’s probably worth a blowjob,” Prompto manages to recover though, and he’s quite pleased with the casual way he throws the response back. Noct’s fingers tighten around his. Prompto thinks that’s a pretty good victory.

“That’s an expensive blow job,” Noctis replies after a split second. He pulls up into an empty spot in front of Prompto’s building.

“It’s worth it,” Prompto teases, but he’s smiling, too, as he tucks the box containing his shiny new phone  into his little work bag. “Maybe if you keep treating me right you’ll get lucky and find out someday.”

Noctis rolls his eyes and laughs, and as they climb out of the car and make their way up into the apartment, he throws an arm around Prompto’s shoulders. “That’s the plan, y’know.”

Prompto lives on a middle floor apartment, because of course he does. It’s cheaper than the top floor or the bottom floor, because having a neighbor on both sides is the worst. Either someone’s banging their ceiling because they’re walking around too loudly, or Prompto’s being woken up at 6 AM by the apartment upstairs choosing that exact time to run their dishwasher. Sacrifices must be made, though.

“I gotta warn you,” Prompto says as they make their way up the stairs and stop outside his front door, “it’s kinda small. And my roommates aren’t super clean. We’re kinda poor,” he laughs self-consciously, as if that part isn’t already apparent, since he works at a tea shop and, up until five minutes ago, owned a very old, very pathetic phone.

“I’m here to spend time with you,” Noctis points out, and somehow that makes Prompto feel a lot better. He unlocks the door and leads Noct inside, and well, he tries not to feel too embarrassed. The dishes haven’t been done. There’s a bit of clutter around the place. Overall though, it’s not as bad as he thought it would be. Still, Prompto’s a bit ashamed of their secondhand furniture, of the fact that the place is really small, and that someone like Noctis seems a bit out of place.

“There’s not much to show,” Prompto kicks his shoes off and leaves them next to the door. Noctis follows suit, slipping out of a pair of fancy looking comfortable leather things, and lets Prompto take him by the arm and lead him through the place. It really is small, the typical run of the mill apartment, entering into the living room, with sliding doors and a little balcony off the wall to the left, a connecting kitchen and little space for a dining room table on the right. And straight through, there’s a hallway, with the bathroom and three bedrooms.

“I’ve been here the longest, so I got the master bedroom,” Prompto says with a grin as he tugs Noctis into his bedroom. It has a little en-suite bathroom, which is the only reason he’s interested. Prompto’s not a total slob, not nearly as bad as some of the people he’s lived with, but he likes his makeup and his hair products, and he runs a lot so he’s prone to taking baths and showers at weird hours. His current roommates, he’s not on super friendly terms with, but they’re cool enough and they don’t care much.

And Prompto’s really glad he cleaned his room earlier. Sure, there’s a couple of cans of soda stacked up on his computer desk. And he does flush a little and make a quick scurry to pick up his college books and stack them nearly, and to kick a few dirty articles of clothing under the bed where they’re hidden from sight. In all though, it could be a lot worse.

Noctis leans against the doorway and gives Prompto’s room a lingering look. It’s not much. He’s got a bed (a queen, thank the gods, and only because a friend was giving away the bedframe for free so Prompto was okay with splurging on the mattress) tucked up against one corner of the room, next to the window, a little smart TV with a console hooked up to it in front of the bed, and tucked against the other wall is his desk, his computer, and a bookshelf stacked with comic books and school textbooks and a few collectibles. There’s a laundry basket of clean clothes in front of his closed closet door, but Prompto’s at least folded them, even if they haven’t been put away yet.

“I get the feeling that the place is a little small for you,” Prompto plays off the nerves as good-natured teasing.

Noctis shrugs. “I like it. I’m gonna order takeout, let’s eat and watch a movie?”

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees lazily, “sounds good. I gotta take a shower first though. I smell like shit.”

“I think you smell pretty good,” Noctis replies, and Prompto rolls his eyes and sends a playful swat in Noct’s direction. There’s a moment where Prompto almost opens his big stupid mouth and asks him to come join him in the shower, but… well. Whether it’s common sense that keeps Prompto’s mouth shut, or the intimate knowledge that shower sex never quite works out right, is up for debate. He grabs a towel and some clean lazy clothes from his basket and takes a quick, refreshing shower. It scares Prompto a little at how easy and natural this feels, because he doesn’t bother to deal with makeup or styling his hair or whatever, and instead wanders back out in a loose t-shirt and some sweatpants, towel thrown around his neck to catch his still-dripping wet hair.

Noct orders food from an app on his phone, and they settle down at the foot of Prompto’s bed. Prompto’s lying on his stomach, his arms hanging off the edge, and at some point, Noct scoots onto his side and lazily throws an arm around Prompto’s shoulders. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, feeling Noct’s breath hot against his skin.

“What do you wanna watch?” Prompto flips the TV on and starts flipping through his Netflix queue. “You should probably choose… it’s kinda weird, but I don’t watch a lot of movies. And when I do, it’s mostly foreign stuff.” Prompto isn’t a big movie fan in general, partially because he’s pretty sure he’s got some sort of attention deficit issue, he can’t sit still and focused for that long. He likes TV shows and cartoons and stuff. Truly, he’s an adult, he promises.

“You know, somehow I got the feeling that you aren’t that big on movies,” Noctis laughs. He kisses into Prompto’s shoulder, and reaches for the remote.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Prompto flails a little, shooting Noct a dark look over his shoulder, and he doesn’t know whether to grump about the words or to go a little crazy about the fact that Noctis is kissing his shoulder. “I know plenty about movies, I just don’t watch them.”

“Sure,” Noctis rolls his eyes, “didn’t say it was a bad thing. I like that about you.”

“You seem to like an awful lot about me,” Prompto teases, keeping his voice light, hoping that he doesn’t betray just how much he’s enjoying this, doing the whole stupid hanging out in his room thing, exchanging cheesy banter with a ridiculously gorgeous, mysterious guy he still knows next to nothing about.

“Yeah, I do,” Noct murmurs, and he scoots a little closer, a leg draping over Prompto’s, breath hot against his cheek. Prompto really likes how warm and solid Noct’s body feels against his. They’re almost the same height, Noct has maybe an inch on him, and they fit together really well. It’s way too early to be thinking dumb, romantic notions, like how good they feel pressed together, or how nice Noct’s lips feel against his neck, but—oh. Fuck. Noct’s lips are edging lazily over his jaw, and Prompto’s sighing and tipping his head, and…

“Noct,” he says throatily, a little hesitant, but Noctis lifts his head away, catches Prompto’s gaze.

“… got carried away, huh?” Noct laughs a little sheepishly, and Prompto’s mind is screaming _no, fuck, give me more of that,_ because goddamn those lips feel good, and Prompto’s back to imagining all the horrible, wonderful things they could be doing, alone in his room.

“No – I mean, _yes_ , but – aren’t we waiting on food?” Prompto settles with, weakly, and he’s pretty sure the words are absolutely not convincing. Prompto is very, very relieved that he’s lying on his stomach, and he wills his body to calm down, for his half-hard cock to soften as it presses into the mattress.

And really, Prompto’s far more interested in things other than the food. But he hasn’t eaten all day, and his stomach is grumbling, and he really isn’t intending on putting out tonight. Even if every single part of his body is rebelling against that particular thought.

“Right, the food,” Noct settles back a little, giving Prompto a bit of space, and he passes the remote back to him. “You pick. Only thing I really know is movies. I don’t get a lot of time to just hang out, y’know?”

Prompto shrugs and puts on some stupid true crime show. “Well you’re gonna be stuck with my shitty tastes then. Let’s watch some people get murdered.”

“You’re so weird,” Noctis laughs, and Prompto sets the remote aside, reaches and tugs Noct’s arm back over his waist.

“Super weird,” Prompto agrees, and he thinks that maybe Noct’s okay with that. They cuddle up like this until the food arrives, and Noct suggests that Prompto should get the door, because it’s “his apartment” which makes no sense to Prompto, since it’s Noct’s card he’s signing for, but whatever. Prompto grabs a couple cans of soda from the fridge and they eat burgers and fries while sitting on the floor in front of the bed, the TV still playing in the background.

“That’s two meals you’ve bought me now,” Prompto grumbles, playfully nudging at Noct as he digs into his burger.

Noctis laughs. He investigates his burger thoroughly to make sure there’s nothing suspicious on it. Prompto’s noticed, already, that Noct seems to be a bit of a picky eater, and he banks that information. Any little thing he can learn about Noctis is important, because Prompto still doesn’t know a whole lot.

“Maybe I should spill ketchup on your bed. Then we’ll be even,” Noctis teases, and Prompto flushes bright red. And, naturally, it’s Prompto who spills ketchup all over the carpet, and he sighs heavily as he dabs at the red stain in the beige carpeting hopelessly with a napkin.

“You’re messy,” Noct comments, very unnecessarily, and Prompto rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out.

“You have no idea,” and maybe Prompto’s outright flirting, giving Noct all seductive eyes and licking his lips in just such a way, and it’s totally mean. Whatever. Noctis deserves it.

They end up back on the bed after the food is eaten, the trash thrown into the plastic delivery bag and placed by the door so Prompto remembers to dispose of it later. They’re half watching the stupid crime show still, with Noctis making occasional comments about how dumb a particular serial killer is, or how he could do it better.

“This your way of telling me that I’m your next victim?” Prompto groans after one too many little comment. It’s late. The sun has long gone down, and when Noct lifts his arm, his smart watch lights up and Prompto gets a glimpse at the time. It’s almost one in the morning, fuck, they’ve been here for hours.

“You’d already be dead if I wanted to kill you,” Noctis says with a certain level of confidence that makes Prompto groan again. He’s pretty sure that Noctis isn’t a serial killer, but then again, he still doesn’t know where he’s apparently getting this supposed money from. And Prompto still doesn’t even know that Noctis has money. Just a hunch, based on, you know, the nice car. The fact that he just bought Prompto a fancy phone – that’s still in the damn box, fuck, he needs to take the sim card out of his old phone and switch everything over, but Noctis is comfortable and Prompto realizes that he really doesn’t wanna move.

“Hey,” Prompto turns onto his side, so he can get a good look at Noctis in the dark light. Noct turns onto his side, too, and their faces are close, eyes locked. “You wanna sleep here tonight? I mean… it’d be actual sleeping, not… other stuff. But it’s late, and… this is nice.”

Noctis yawns, as if he’s been waiting for Prompto to ask that all along. “Yeah,” he says, “I’ve got nothing planned. This is nice.”

So they scoot up from the edge of the bed to crawl under the covers. Prompto keeps the TV on, but he turns the volume down so that it’s quiet background noise. Noctis removes his shirt and Prompto absolutely does his best to not stare like an idiot. So, maybe, he’s staring like an idiot. Noctis has a slender build, but underneath his clothes, he’s all toned muscle, a little on the thin side, not bulky, but lean and gorgeous and fuck, Prompto’s mouth is watering. It’s outright fucking watering.

“Prom,” Noctis says slowly, “you’re drooling.”

Prompto flushes. Wait. _Prom_?

He’s friendly, he’s super bubbly and Prompto knows how to put up a good front. He can make acquaintances easily. He’s never been on close enough terms with anyone though, to be called Prom. He’s dated and he’s had relationships, but nobody’s ever used a nickname before. He… likes it. Yeah.

“Noct,” Prompto says in response, and it’s a little private joke, one that makes him brighten and smile – even as he wipes at his mouth, and yeah, damnit, he’s definitely drooling. “Shut up.”

And Prompto might be a little self-conscious of his own body, because even though he’s worked damn hard to get where it’s at, there’s still little scars, old stretch marks, a good deal of freckles. But hell, being with Noctis puts him at ease. It’s impossible to be worried or concerned, because Noct’s had a million chances to turn around and run. They’ve only been out on a few dates, but Prompto’s laid it wide and open for him. He’s poor, he’s not the brightest, he’s a bit clumsy, and really weird. And Noct seems to want to sleep in his bed anyway.

Aw, to hell with it. Prompto tugs his shirt off. He keeps the sweatpants on. But Noctis is kicking off his pants and socks, and he’s wearing just his damn boxers, and oh hell, this is going to be one mess of a night. Hopefully just a metaphorical mess. Not an actual literal mess. That would be embarrassing as hell, because Prompto swears he’s not fifteen anymore. Really. Even if his damn dick seems to think he is.

Prompto dives under the covers and makes himself comfortable. He usually sleeps on his side, and he doesn’t know if he’s relieved or terrified when Noct curls up around him, chest warm against Prompto’s back. He shifts awkwardly, because he’s very hard in his pants. Prompto’s pretty sure there’s a damp spot. He’s breathing a little heavily.

And then. Noctis shifts too, presses closer, and Prompto feels his erection nudging into the small of his back. Oh man. His cheeks flush.

“Sorry,” Noctis laughs, making a quiet noise low in his throat, but he sounds almost embarrassed.  It sounds good. It makes Prompto really want to turn around, to get his hand worked into Noct’s boxers, and show him just how sorry he really should be.

“Don’t be,” Prompto says instead, sighing happily at the warmth behind him. “Happens.” Oh, it happens. It’s happening to both of them, but he doesn’t say that.

“You smell good,” Noctis replies, nuzzling into his hair and breathing deeply, and Prompto smiles lazily. He feels Noct’s erection twitching against his back, but it doesn’t bother him. It makes him feel wanted, in a way that he’s never really felt before.

“You do too, Noct. Night.”

“Night, Prom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you enjoy being cockblocked for 4500 words? i didn't. i wanted to make these idiots get the humping they deserve. 
> 
> there's always the next morning though...... ;) not sayin' that the next part is probably going to be a lot of porn. but it's probably going to be a lot of porn. 
> 
> i will probably keep posting updates to this on tumblr (@destatree) first cuz i proofread and ninjaedit there. also then i can quietly pray that numi keeps drawing her cute lil doodles to go with this lmao i'm a whore for her.


	4. Lazy Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto satisfies that oral fixation~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just porn FYI~

Prompto’s an early riser. He always has been, and when he got old enough to realize he needed to stop comfort eating and start working out, that only hardwired the habit further. So it’s no surprise when he wakes up as the sun’s rising in the sky.

 

It is a surprise though, when Prompto’s sleep-filled mind, working overdrive on the whole ‘waking up’ thing, processes that he isn’t alone in his bed. There’s a comfortable weight thrown around his waist. There’s hot breath pressed into the back of his neck, and the gentle sound of soft breathing. Prompto’s trying to remember what happened here, as he cracks his eyes open and carefully shifts a little to ease his sleeping limbs awake.

 

Of course, the memory hits him. Noctis, surprising him at work. Buying him that damn fancy new phone. Ordering them takeout. Hanging out, and falling asleep in his _bed._ Prompto’s stomach does a flip and suddenly he’s very awake. He can’t stop smiling, reaching and fingers brushing carefully over Noct’s knuckles, where his hand is resting firm and warm on Prompto’s belly.

 

Noctis makes a quiet noise in his sleep and he shifts, face nuzzling into the back of Prompto’s neck, and as he presses closer into his back, Prompto realizes that Noct’s still sporting a half-erection, and it’s still pressing right above the waistline of his sweatpants. Fuck. Prompto’s not much of a morning wood kinda guy, but he feels his own cock stirring under his pants.

 

Noctis, like the sleeping bastard he is, fucking senses it, because his hand moves, just slightly, and his thumb rubs little circles against the lightly toned curve of Prompto’s belly. It’s just a simple touch, barely even there, but it’s suddenly fire in Prompto’s veins. He breathes heavily. And just like that, like he’s a damn teenage boy seeing porn for the first time, Prompto’s rock-hard and aching.

 

Prompto knows he should get up. He can carefully slip out from under Noct’s arm without waking him up if he’s slow and careful. He needs to go for a run, anyway, especially with the memories of the greasy food from the night before. And really, even if he’s not going anywhere, Prompto’s not new to this shit. He should get up, brush his teeth, wash his face, do a quiet little bit of cleanup with a wet cloth to get away the dried sweat and the musky sleepy scent. Just in case something happens. _In case_ , Prompto tells himself firmly, because his cock is straining against his pants and seems very convinced something should happen.

 

Of course, instead of getting up, Prompto carefully shifts himself around, so that he’s lying chest-to-chest with Noctis, so that his bleary, sleep-crusted eyes can get a good look at the other man.

 

Noctis, for all his aura of mystery, for all the strange confidence he’s been showing when he’s awake, even during the somewhat awkward flirting, sleeps just like a normal person. Hell, he seems to be pretty gone. Prompto gets the feeling that he’s a heavy sleeper, cuz he’s barely even stirred. His eyes are fluttering ever so slightly under a thick line of lashes – a dream, maybe? It makes Prompto smile. He wonders what Noctis is dreaming about. Maybe a _nice_ dream, and a flush rises across Prompto’s cheeks at that thought, because it might not be so far off, not with the nice way Noct is rocking his hips and the bulge in his boxers is nudging into the little dip of Prompto’s pelvis. _Ah_. Fuck.

 

“Hey, Noct,” Prompto says quietly, in a bit of a silly, sing-song voice. He shouldn’t touch. He shouldn’t even be _looking_ really. The blankets have ridden down the bed and are pooled around Noct’s hips. He’s all exposed skin, and he looks _really_ good. His shoulders are broader than Prompto expected, with the rest of his torso tapering off, and at this angle, when he’s sleeping on his side, arm crooked under his head, Prompto can fully appreciate the dip of Noct’s waist and the curve of hip. His boxers are riding low on his hips, and there’s the faintest hint of smooth, curved black strokes hidden underneath, along the sharp line of his pelvis. Prompto takes a deep, shuddering breath. Fuck. A tattoo? He can’t look, has to drag his eyes back up, before Prompto makes a fucking mess in his pants.

 

And looking at the rest of Noct is easy, too. Noctis has his head tilted back just slightly, showing off throat, a delicate jawline that has the earliest traces of stubble. Prompto wants to touch. His fingers itch, and oh hell, he reaches out, slow and careful, and drags the tips of his fingers over the rough skin. Touching Noctis like this, intimate and slow, and mostly innocent, it feels _right._

 

If the touch disturbs Noct’s sleep, there’s no indication of it. Maybe a little twitch, the slightest furrowing of his brow, but otherwise, nothing. Prompto wonders what it’d be like to slide down that gorgeous body, to tug Noct’s boxers down and get his lips wrapped around him properly, and wake him  up that way. If Prompto could properly gauge Noct’s response to that – if it didn’t feel _weird_ and outright _wrong,_ making the first moves on someone who’s very obviously sleeping – he might try and see. Hell, he wants to see that tattoo, to run his tongue over those smooth lines…

 

Prompto shudders, and instead he leans in. He doesn’t normally sleep in, and normally he’d be impatient as all hell by now, up and about, going for a run, or brewing coffee and getting to work at his computer on editing some photos. But somehow, the idea of getting up out of bed is so foreign, such a horrendous possibility. Maybe he just wants to savour being in bed with someone – someone he _really likes –_ a bit longer. He slips an arm around Noct’s waist, and blushes when his fingers brush over the curve of Noct’s ass through his boxers. Smiling a quiet little shy smile to himself, Prompto buries his face up against Noct’s chest, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall as he breathes, and somehow, even after a full night’s rest, Noctis smells so damn good, like the final lingering hints of whatever cologne he’s wearing.

 

Prompto doesn’t fall entirely back asleep, but he dozes on and off, waking whenever Noct shifts a little, or whenever his arm falls asleep or their half-hard cocks brush against each other in a gentle, but delicious sort of friction. Noctis sleeps through it all. In fact, Prompto’s pretty sure that Noct would sleep forever, if it weren’t for the alarm that starts blaring suddenly, making Prompto jump out of his fucking skin and jerk awake instantly.

 

“ _Ugh, Noct,”_ Prompto grumbles, because for a guy as casual as Noctis, he has one of the most horrendous alarms he’s ever heard. It’s one of the default ones, blaring like a fucking siren, and Prompto reluctantly drags his body away from the warmth of Noct’s to dig around for the offending phone. He leans groggily off the end of the bed, head spinning as he fumbles around on the floor, finally feeling the familiar heavy weight in the pocket of Noct’s pants. Tugging the phone out, Prompto mashes the screen until the horrendous sound stops, and he groans and heaves himself back onto the bed.

 

“’s gonna go off again in ten minutes,” Noctis mumbles blearily, voice thick with sleep, his eyes still shut as he snuggles up close again, arm tucking back around Prompto’s waist.

 

Prompto groans. “What the hell do you need such a loud, annoying ass alarm for?”

 

Noctis makes a sleepy sound and nuzzles into Prompto’s neck, and Prompto’s heart fucking melts again. “Got seven alarms set…”

 

“ _Seven?!”_ Prompto makes a quiet offended noise, and presses the phone into Noct’s hand. “Turn them off. I am _not_ listening to that shit seven times.”

 

Noctis grumbles but he cracks an eye open, and blinks a few times, but he swipes past his lock screen and fumbles with his phone for a few moments. Prompto fights back the urge to snoop and spy on what Noct’s got on his phone. He’s curious, horribly so, to see what he’s got set as his background at least. But Prompto’s better than that. He’s proud of himself for not looking.

 

“I like to sleep,” Noctis offers up with a faint little exhausted smile as he tucks his phone under a pillow, as if that’s a legitimate excuse for having several of the most irritating phone alarms in existence. “Kinda have to force myself to get up most days.”

 

Prompto laughs though, despite it all, and he scoots up a little. Noct’s awake – well, half awake, his eyes aren’t still entirely open – and maybe Prompto’s a little eager. Maybe he’s coursing with a strange courage he didn’t even entirely know he possessed. Probably, he’s just been pressed up close to Noctis for way too long. Either way, he goes for it.

 

“You know,” Prompto says, and he keeps his voice light, casual, even as he leans closer, his lips brushing lightly over Noct’s, “I can think of better ways to wake up in the morning. If you’re interested.”

 

That gets Noct’s attention. Prompto’s lips twitch in a little smirk as Noctis opens his eyes, and through the haze of sleep, through him blinking blearily, there’s definitely a good deal of interest. “Yeah?” he replies, just as casual, though Noct’s sliding his arm back around Prompto’s waist, hand sliding over his ass, gripping firm. “I’m interested.” Prompto groans, and he swears he can feel the heat from Noct’s hand through the fabric of his pants. Or hell, maybe that’s just the heat of the flush that’s spreading across his cheeks. Or the fucking heat of his cock, hard and aching in his pants for way too long.

 

And that’s all the invitation Prompto needs, really, before he’s practically pouncing, closing those final bits of distance between them to get his lips on Noct’s, good and proper, just like he’s wanted to for ages now. They’ve been kissing a good bit now, and Noct is a _good_ kisser, but Prompto’s got a few tricks up his sleeve. Maybe it’s because he’s had those few hours of half-sleep to spur his fantasies, or maybe it’s because Noct’s still half-asleep and easy to surprise, easy to take off guard, but Noctis lets Prompto push him onto his back in the bed. Prompto smirks, nips at Noct’s lower lip and drags rough and firm with his teeth, scrabbling to crawl over him.

 

“Fuck,” Noctis laughs as the kiss breaks, “you’re eager.” Prompto doesn’t hesitate though, lips twisting in the faintest flash of a smirk before he’s dragging his tongue along the curve of Noct’s jaw. Noctis tastes just as good as he smells, with a faint hint of sweat and something sweet, and his skin’s rough with stubble under Prompto’s tongue. He fucking loves it though, and he makes it his personal mission to lick and nip his way to Noct’s ear, to lave attention there that draws a rough, harsh moan from Noct’s lips. He’s sensitive there, and Prompto commits it to memory, before he works lower.

 

There’s a thought in Prompto’s mind that he wants to learn every last little minute detail of Noct’s body. That some day, he’s going to map out every inch of him with his tongue, that he’ll lave it along every ridge of muscle, into every dip and over every curve. Prompto’s a bit impatient right now though. He stops to suck at the junction of shoulder and neck, and Noct’s fingers lift, tangle in Prompto’s hair, tugging light, but not rough. Prompto knows he’s already fucking won this battle, because of course he has.

 

“You know,” Prompto purrs out as he works his way down, nipping at the flat, dark flesh of one nipple, and grinning wickedly as it stiffens into a hard peak under his talented tongue, “I seem to remember a certain conversation about owing you an expensive blowjob…”

 

Noct’s fingers tighten in his hair, and his chest arches up off the bed as Prompto shifts, lavishes attention on his other nipple now. “You do owe me,” he agrees, and his voice is breathless from arousal, with maybe a hint of laughter around the edges.

 

“Would hate to leave you disappointed,” Prompto sighs out. He slides down the bed, tongue working a heated, swirling line down Noct’s toned abdomen, pausing to dip into his navel, an action that makes Noct jump and twitch, and he cries out and tries to push Prompto’s head away. “Ticklish, huh?” Prompto grins. Another _very_ important fact to remember. He’s been painfully hard before they even started, and he reaches down between his own legs, palms over his erection through his pants, and the front of them is damp and sticky. Fuck, Prompto’s turned on. But more important is Noct, this fucking gorgeous creature of a man underneath him, and Prompto is _determined_ to satisfy.

 

When his lips drag over the waist of Noct’s boxers, Prompto draws away. He sits back on his heels, perched between Noct’s legs, and looks over him. If Noctis was half-asleep before, he’s wide awake now. Their eyes meet, and Prompto’s satisfied little smirk widens. Noct looks _good._ More than that, he looks horny as fuck. His hair’s tousled from sleep, bangs half-fallen over blown out eyes, pupils dilated and dark with need. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips are kiss-swollen and half open. His chest is heaving, and there’s already little red love marks flushing to life on his neck, one on his chest over dark, peaked nipples. Prompto sighs, and he doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s looking, that he’s leaning back a little and palming the outline of his aching cock through his sweatpants as his gaze drifts lower…

 

Prompto’s eyes settle on those damn dark lines on Noct’s left hip. His boxers have slipped down further, and Prompto can clearly see the outline of his cock, hard and flush through the thin fabric. Noct’s boxers are dark, but Prompto’s pretty sure can make out an even darker smudge where the tip of his cock is leaking and desperate for contact. But even more appealing is that stupid little surprise tattoo.

 

“You’ve got ink,” Prompto murmurs, and he pulls his hand away from his own cock, reaching out to trail his fingers over the dark lines. It’s the beginning of a circle, with ornate patterning, and what appears to be wings, or feathers. “Kinky, Noct, didn’t know you were into slutty tattoos…” Prompto’s cheeks flush even darker than they already are, with the words, but he lifts his head, catches Noct’s eyes, and he sees a dark approval there. Apparently Noct’s okay with throwing words around in bed, too. Prompto’s pretty sure his life is about to get a _lot_ more interesting.

 

“You can get a better look at it, y’know,” Noctis replies, and he arches his back, catlike and graceful, putting on a damn good show that he must fucking know Prompto can’t resist. It’s the permission Prompto’s being waiting for, and he wastes absolutely no time in snaking his fingers under the band of Noct’s boxers and dragging them down his thighs with a satisfied sigh.

 

It’s a view, Prompto decides instantly, that was well worth the wait. Because Noctis is fucking _gorgeous._ His hips are wide and his thighs are toned – the guy really has to lift, there’s no fucking other way he’d look so good. Prompto greedily drags his eyes to that damn tattoo, and now that he’s got a full view of it, he decides that he can fully appreciate it. It’s nestled low along the curve of his pelvis, and Prompto thinks it’s an ornate side portrait of a skull, open-mouthed, with some sort of winged helm. The wing tapers down the side, all the way to Noct’s thigh, and Prompto decides he really wants to trace his tongue over every single detail. Fuck, he wants to fall asleep at night with his head on Noct’s hip, fingers running over the smooth black ink. Hell, he’s fallen, hasn’t he?

 

“You think it’s hot,” Noct’s words are heated, and it’s a bit of a challenge being issues. Prompto laughs, and he doesn’t fucking bother to deny it.

 

“I think you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathes out. Prompto presses his hands onto Noct’s thighs, spreads his legs further apart, and he settles down between them.

 

“Funny. I hear that a lot.” Noctis reaches for the other pillow and he props it up under his head, lifting up enough that he has a damn good view. _Good,_ Prompto thinks, because he’s about to fucking blow Noct’s mind. It’s been a while since Prompto’s done this, and he’s well aware of the fact that he’s out of practice. But it’s like riding a bicycle, right? He’s a bit rusty, but the skill is there, engrained in his mind. And damn, Prompto’s pretty sure his eagerness will more than make up for the rest of it.

 

“You’re a cocky asshole, Noct,” Prompto purrs, as he settles comfortably, cheek nudging against Noct’s pelvis, against those stark black lines that stand out nicely against pale skin, “but I can guarantee this is gonna be the best blowjob of your life.”

 

“Better b-“ Noctis starts to say, but the words are cut off, because Prompto goes in for the kill, his tongue dragging suddenly up the underside of his cock in a hot, wet line, and all Noct can do is groan out and rock his hips up and reach frantically down to curl his fingers into Prompto’s hair.

 

Prompto’s a dick kinda guy. There’s no denying it. He likes putting his tongue to use, and he likes having his mouth stuffed. He’s dated girls, and he’s gone down on a couple of them, and that’s got a certain satisfaction to it, but there’s still nothing like sucking cock. Prompto’s pretty sure Noctis has the nicest one he’s ever seen though. It’s not too long, but there’s a good amount of girth to it. He’s got a small dusting of dark pubic hair along the base, and a happy little trail all the way up to his navel that Prompto thinks he’ll have to kiss his way down, one of these days, assuming he gets to do this again. He’s sure he’ll get to do this again though, because Noct’s making a damn nice sound. His hips are already twitching, and his cock is already fully hard, resting heavy against his belly.

 

“Noctis,” Prompto says, with a happy little smile and an evil glint to his eye as he tips his head up and catches Noct’s eye. “You seem to have trouble talking there. Something wrong?” Sure enough, Noctis is watching him, very intently. Prompto _likes_ being watched. There’s a certain thrill to it, and he’s always enjoyed putting on a bit of a show. With sexual confidence thrumming in his veins, the knowledge that he might be a fucking mess in other areas of his life but this one he’s _good_ at, Prompto leans in and nuzzles his cheek right against the base of Noct’s cock. It smells good, musky, like _Noct;_ how does Noctis smell so fucking good? His balls are heavy, drawn tight already, and Prompto wonders, idly, how long it’s been for him? Noct’s one hell of a catch, Prompto’s already figured that out, but maybe it’s been a while for him, too…

 

“Better shut that mouth up before I do it for you,” Noctis hisses, and Prompto laughs, bright and happy and honest, taking the overt hint to heart. He leans in, and closes his lips around the tip of Noct’s cock, and properly takes him in.

 

Noctis tastes bitter, but the taste doesn’t bother Prompto. He’s more pleased that he can taste it already, heavy against his tongue as he flicks it over the tip of Noct’s cock. There’s a jolt of satisfaction at that – one that’s centered right between his legs, where his own erection presses desperate and needy against his pants. Prompto’s more than capable of ignoring that though, because this is about _Noct,_ about doing what Prompto’s been fantasizing about ever since they damn met.

 

Noct’s making delicious noises, too. He’s gotten the moans under control, but his breathing is harsh, and Prompto’s amused at how his hips are jerking, muscles reflexively trying to rock up into the tight heat. He has some self control though, he’s holding back for Prompto’s sake, and that makes Prompto smile. Of course, it’s just another challenge, because he plans to destroy that control, utterly annihilate it. One of Prompto’s hands settles on Noct’s hip – palm pressing heavy against that damn tattoo, fingers digging into the curve of his hip, and he sets to work, lips parting, cheeks hollowing, as he sinks down on Noct’s erection.

 

He’s definitely out of practice, because when Prompto gets most of the way down, Noct’s cock bumps the back of his throat, and he’s fighting back the urge to cough and sputter, saliva pooling at the corner of his mouth and dripping down his chin. If it bothers Noctis though, he doesn’t say anything – probably, he isn’t _capable_ of saying much – but his fingers are tugging at Prompto’s hair a little more urgently, and his hips are rocking forward now, in steady little circles. And hell, Prompto already knows his jaw is going to be aching soon. He pushes all that aside though, along with his own burning need, because Noct’s erection is hot and throbbing and filling him up, and Prompto’s nothing if not absolutely _dedicated_ at fully playing into the cockslut role.

 

When Prompto starts to bob his head, tongue dragging heavy along the thick vein under Noct’s cock as he works his lips along the shaft, he earns his first _real_ moan. He’s focused on his task, but Prompto manages a quick glimpse up, his eyes wide and watering from the effort, and there’s a deep rush of pleasure when he realizes Noct’s still staring at him with heavy, lidded eyes. Prompto makes a quiet, appreciative sound around Noctis’s erection, and the vibration gets him another of those moans. Prompto really _really_ likes hearing Noct moan. It’s a fucking addiction, one that he knows, instantly, that he’s going to be chasing from now on.

 

And lucky Prompto, because he’s having _fun._ He’s finding his rhythm now. He can tell that Noct likes it deep and steady, and as his throat starts to relax and adjust, Prompto takes him deeper. His throat tightens and constricts around the head of Noct’s cock, but it doesn’t quite feel so much like he’s going to choke and die now, it’s only a vaguely uncomfortable sensation, one that Prompto thinks is well worth the trade off. Prompto’s tongue is working, swirling around the thick girth in his mouth, tracing sensitive veins, pressing under the head of his cock on each upward motion, and he can feel Noct’s length swelling in his mouth, twitching and aching, and Prompto’s pretty sure he’s going to get off soon.

 

“ _Prom,”_ Noctis manages, and when Prompto chances another look up, Noct’s cheeks are flushed and his chest is arched off the bed, and one hand, the one that’s not gripping at his hair, is fisting the sheets. Fuck, it’s a throb of need that goes right to Prompto’s own cock, and he starts again with renewed vigor.

 

Prompto’s jaw is aching, and he’s a total fucking mess. He’s utterly shameless about it, well aware that his cheeks and his chin and hell, probably half of his neck, is slick with saliva and the bitter precum leaking from Noct’s cock. It’s on Noct’s thighs too, shiny and slippery, and it only encourages Prompto to shift his grip, to run his fingers in wet, slow circles along the sharp curve of Noct’s pelvis as he bobs along his dick. He’s loud, too, moaning and sighing happily as his throat is filled when he goes down, the vibrations running all through Noct’s erection, and when he withdraws, almost entirely, there’s lewd, wet noises chasing the motions. Maybe in a different world, Prompto would be embarrassed about the utter mess he’s making, but Noct’s only responding to it, only jerking his hips up, dripping heavily all over his tongue and filling Prompto with the craving to taste _more._

 

“Close, Prom,” Noct manages, has the good grace to offer up a little warning, and Prompto smiles an evil little smile, his lips stretched wide around the cock in his mouth. He bobs faster, eyes wet and red-rimmed and throat burning with the effort, but Prompto doesn’t slow down, can’t slow, he’s chasing the high that only comes with being _powerful_ like this. His hand slips, moves from Noct’s hip, a subtle, quiet permission granted, and the response is immediate – Noct jerks his hips up, outright fucking up into his mouth, and even though Prompto is sputtering and gasping and desperately trying to breathe from his nose, he makes no effort to stop, though thick strands of saliva are running down his chin.

 

And then it’s over fast. Prompto’s hand dips down lower, and he’s tugging at Noct’s balls, gentle and teasing, fingers cupping and rolling the sensitive sac, and Noctis makes a quiet, needy noise and jerks his hips. Prompto can barely breathe, his lungs burning, but his fingers delve further back, rub hard and firm into the sensitive skin behind as he takes his cock in, and that _does_ it. Noct’s head tosses back, he makes a desperate keening noise, Prompto’s name on his lips, and there’s an explosion of bitter, musky heat flooding Prompto’s mouth, shooting down his throat and spilling from the corners of his lips to pool with the wetness there.

 

Prompto can’t breathe, and he swallows heavily once, twice, eyes watering and everything burning, before easing off, still swallowing and panting heavily as he mouths at the tip of Noct’s cock, tongue still swirling, working him through his orgasm, until Noct’s cock softens and falls from his lips, and the other man is a desperate, trembling heap, boneless and collapsed against the mattress.

 

Prompto sighs happily, and he lifts his arm to his face, wiping away some of the mess with his forearm.

 

“ ‘m out of practice,” he murmurs, and his voice is thick, his throat sore from the effort. Prompto’s happy though, so fucking pleased with himself, that it’s well worth it, the burn only a reminder of it all. He’s pretty sure he looks good too, all matted blonde hair, cheeks flushed and slick with sweat and saliva and come, shiny over the freckles bursting bright on his skin. And Noctis? He looks even fucking better, the perfect picture of blissed out, muscles in his tummy still clenching and thighs shaking and his cock still semi-erect and wet against his belly, leaking out the final strings of come against his abs.

 

Noctis makes a quiet noise, something between a whimper and a moan and maybe an attempt at Prompto’s name, and he opens his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are blown out, high from his orgasms, all endorphins and adrenaline and whatever other chemical release has taken place. Prompto’s a genius with a dick, but he isn’t a fucking scientist.

 

“Prom,” Noctis tries again, and this time he manages. “If that’s you _out of practice,_ I think you’re going to kill me.”

 

“Sure as hell gonna try,” Prompto purrs, and he braces one arm on the bed next to Noct’s head, slides up his body to steal a kiss. It’s messy, and when he pulls away, Noct’s lips are wet. If he’s upset about it though, Noctis doesn’t say anything. He’s panting still, trembling a little, but an arm curls around Prompto’s waist neck, tugs him close, and Noct’s other hand snakes up between them, to rub firmly at the bulge in Prompto’s sweatpants.

 

“Your turn, I think,” Noctis breathes out, and Prompto sighs his approval, going in for another kiss, fingers tangling in Noct’s hair. They kiss for a while, slow and lazy, gentle swipes of tongue, Noct’s hands working over his erection, making Prompto writhe and gasp against hot, talented lips.

 

Noctis shifts back as Prompto slips forward, until Noct is sitting upright, back up against the headboard of Prompto’s bed, pillows still propped up behind him. Prompto’s swung his legs around, fully straddling Noct’s lap, arms wrapped loosely over his shoulders. They part for breath, and Prompto leans in, sweaty foreheads pressing together. They’re close like this, practically sharing breath, eyes close and searching into each other, and Prompto’s surprised by how _good_ this feels. It’s not awkward, and it’s not fumbling or strange or confusing. Prompto’s no virgin, obviously. He’s had a decent amount of sex, some of it good, a lot of it bad. It’s never been like _this_ before though. This is natural, this is like _breathing._

 

“You look really good,” Noct murmurs against Prompto’s lips, and he skims his hands up, over Prompto’s belly, fingers feather-light and tickling and making Prompto gasp and wiggle atop his perch in Noctis’s lap.

 

“You’re just saying that cuz I sucked your cock,” Prompto teases, his voice bright and easy with laughter, sitting back a little and tipping his head, offering his best lazy, almost sultry-looking smile.

 

Noct’s eyes narrow for a split second, and his hands slide back down, fingers dipping under the band of Prompto’s pants. _Finally,_ Prompto thinks, since he’s still rock fucking hard, his cock a throbbing outline in his damp sweatpants. He’s been patient, of course, intently focused on driving Noctis to the brink, and he’s succeeded spectacularly. That doesn’t meant that Prompto doesn’t want a turn though.

 

“That a hint I should be returning the favour?” Noct’s fingers are running along the defined line of Prompto’s pelvis, stopping just shy of his cock, and Prompto groans impatiently.

 

“It’s a hint you should be _fucking_ me, Noct,” Prompto’s not above taking things into his own hands, either. He lifts up, and shoves Noct’s hands away, pinning them down against the bed. Noctis doesn’t say anything, but his eyes burn into Prompto’s, and he looks amused, lips quirked, a slow, steady aroused flush beginning to spread again. And even though Noctis just got off, Prompto can feel his cock slowly twitching to life again between them, and it makes him smile, a very heated self-satisfied smirk, as he lifts up onto his knees and makes a show of sliding his pants down his thighs.

 

Prompto’s pretty sure he looks good. Sometimes, there’s still little bursts of self-consciousness. He’s not all smooth, perfect skin and toned angles, not like Noct is. Prompto works out, and that’s obvious, but only cuz he’s the kind of person who _has_ to or else he’ll balloon back up. He’s got faded stretch marks on his hips and his inner thighs, and there’s a little roll of tummy when he bends over. Currently, he’s got a red streak of fading sunburn across his shoulders and the back of his neck, from the sunscreen sweating  off during the middle of a long, poorly planned run a few days earlier. But none of that matters right now, because Noctis _wants_ him.

 

It's obvious Noct wants him too, the fuckin’ look he’s offering up. Prompto sighs, and licks his lips, swollen from kissing, from that ridiculous blowjob. He offers Noctis his best seductive look, with a tilt of his head, hair falling over his eyes, and slides his hand down his belly, through soft white-blonde hair, and curls a hand around the base of his heavy, leaking cock, giving a good stroke, spreading the slickness around the tip.

 

“Think you like puttin’ on a show,” Noctis doesn’t bother to hide that he’s enjoying watching, and Prompto’s heart thumps in his chest. There’s adrenaline rushing through him, but there’s a strange affection too, and the smile that crosses his lips is sunshine and bubbling happiness.

 

“You like talking,” Prompto shoots back. Noctis likes a lot of things, apparently, because Prompto can already feel him stirring to life between them again. _Good,_ because Prompto’s got a few very specific things in mind. His cock twitches, dribbles over his fingertips, and Prompto smirks, leans in and steals a kiss, wiping his sticky fingers across Noct’s chest, leaving a little trail of precum there.

 

Noctis groans and rolls his eyes, but Prompto’s all mischief, and he crawls out of Noct’s lap, makes a point of wiggling his hips and his ass as he crosses his room in an instant. He probably should’ve planned this out better, but the initial idea wasn’t to spend a morning having lazy sex with his new boyfriend. What’s that saying, about the best laid plans…? Prompto shrugs. He digs through his desk drawer, fingers closing around the tube of lubricant he has stashed there (along with a nice little collection of toys, but that’s for another day), and then Prompto returns, all bright-eyed and focused as he slips back to his perch, knees on either side of Noct’s thighs, an arm curling around his neck and dragging him in for a kiss.

 

“Prom,” Noct’s voice is a bit breathless as they part from the fierce kiss, all tongue and teeth dragging over each other, and there’s a delicious flush still spreading over that perfect pale skin, “what are we doing here?”

 

Prompto laughs and presses the little tube into Noct’s hand, his lips at quick work, showering tiny little kisses over his jaw, the scrape of Noct’s stubble scratchy, a little burning, and impossibly pleasing, “we’re gonna fuck, Noct, unless you’ve got some other great plan?”

 

Noctis groans his satisfaction. Prompto’s busy laying attention to his jaw now, but he hears the little click of the tube opening, and then there’s slick fingers sliding over his ass, working little circles against the tight ring of muscle. Prompto hasn’t had sex properly in a _really_ long time, but he’s an adventurous enough guy. Free porn sites exist, and he’s got a few of those well-used toys in his desk. He’s already relatively relaxed, but Noct’s fingers are damn magic, and they make him shudder and dig his fingers into Noct’s shoulders, visibly loosening up already.

 

“I didn’t bring condoms,” Noctis murmurs, but his head’s tipping back against the headboard, and he’s definitely making no real attempt to stop, the first slick finger slipping into Prompto easily, going deep. There’s no resistance, and Prompto sighs out his approval, shifting his hips back and spreading his thighs further, until he feels his muscles stretch and burn. There’s nothing like having another _person_ touch him this way, and the fact that it’s Noctis? He’s going insane already.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” the words come out more as a breathy gasp as Noct slips a second finger in, twisting and working Prompto open, and there’s the usual, familiar burn, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Noct’s good at it, too, tugging up at his rim and spreading him and Prompto _moans,_ hot and needy, with the first press of delicious friction to his prostate. “Ah- unless there’s a reason for it to matter?”

 

Noctis hesitates just for a moment, and Prompto groans, wondering if maybe he’s destined to get a handjob while Noct fucks him with his fingers. Not that the prospect is necessarily a _bad_ one, but Prompto’s ready for a nice, lazy morning fuck, with Noct’s cock buried in his ass, and he’s kinda got his heart set on that.

 

“Hasn’t been anyone in a while,” Noctis says finally, catching Prompto’s lips in a quick kiss, a third finger joining the second, twisting and bumping over his prostate, and Prompto shudders and keens and twists in the other man’s lap. “So… doesn’t matter, yeah, fuck I _want_ you.”

 

There’s a certain relief that floods through Prompto, and he thinks maybe they should’ve been better prepared, or they shouldn’t be so willing to given in so quickly, but Prompto absolutely doesn’t care. “Fuck, Noct, you’re good at that,” Prompto half gasps, half laughs, nails gripping into Noct’s shoulders, ass rocking back into the touch, and he’s rewarded with another press to the sensitive spot inside him. He clenches, tightens around the fingers, and he’s rewarded with a low moan and the feeling of Noct’s cock twitching between them, fully hard and ready.

 

“You’re the one taking it like you were fucking born to,” Noctis gives his fingers a final twist, but Prompto’s lifting up off him, thighs shaking as he finds the lube, slicking up his fingers and reaching between them to stroke Noct’s cock with a flew long, satisfying pumps. There’s more of that sexual confidence, the realization that he’s managed to get Noctis going again, and it makes Prompto smile that little half-smirk again as he reaches behind, slides the slick head of Noct’s cock between the cleft of his ass.

 

“I haven’t even taken it yet,” Prompto points out, and he manages to keep his voice very serious, like this is an issue that he’s immediately going to rectify. His free hand braces himself on Noct’s chest, pressing Noctis back firmly against the headboard, and then Prompto’s sliding down, sinking down on Noct’s erection, and he sighs, satisfied as the head pops in and it stretches and burns and _fills_ him so goddamn perfectly.

 

Noctis opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but instead he moans, soft and needy, a hand slipping to settle on Prompto’s hip, squeezing, but not guiding, not controlling, simply a little point of contact. The world’s fading away for Prompto, because all he can do is watch Noctis, watch the way his expression shifts, from something lazy and teasing into something _needy._ Noct’s sex face, Prompto decides, is a really good one, his eyes lidded, his lips slightly parted, face flushed, and Prompto can tell he’s trying not to jerk his hips up and bury himself to the hilt.

 

“ _Now_ ,” Prompto breathes out, as he rocks down, lowers himself inch by inch until he’s seated fully, Noct’s balls pressed up against his ass, “I’m taking it like I was born to.” He sighs, pleased, and there’s a long moment of them seated like this, Noct’s cock throbbing and pressed up inside him, stretching him out with a dull, throbbing ache, one that’s not entirely pleasant, but far from being _unpleasant,_ either. He leans in, and Noctis tips his head back and _kisses_ him, and it’s surprisingly soft, a gentle brush of lips, almost out of place in this particular scene.

 

And then Prompto’s hands find Noct’s shoulders, grip in rough and needy, nails biting through skin, and he starts to move. He rises up onto his knees, lifts off Noct’s cock almost entirely, and sinks back down, setting a quick, rough pace, and they both moan out in response.

 

“Fuck,” Noct’s voice is rough, and he rocks his hips up to meet Prompto as he sinks back down, clenching tight and desperate around him. It’s not hard to find a pace. First time sex is usually horrendously awkward, figuring out what the other person likes, what rhythm is best, all the little nuances. Noctis though? He’s fucking made for Prompto. He’s letting Prompto set the pace, matching him, and it seems like it’s doing the exact same thing for both of them. Noct’s twitching as Prompto’s inner walls squeeze around him, and Prompto’s cock is bouncing and leaking precum against his belly with every roll of his hips.

 

“You feel good,” Prompto breathes out, and he wants to touch himself, badly, but he’s already close, already chasing a release that’s far too imminent. And he curses out, the words mangled by a low moan, when he leans back a little, shifts the angle so it’s a slow, steady roll of his hips. One hand braces on Noct’s knee behind him, and each slide forward grinds the head of Noct’s cock right against his prostate. Prompto’s getting lost in the sensation, his whole body tensing, pleasure sparking in his brain, his vision whiting out with each explosive burst.

 

The world disappears when Noct curls a hand around his erection, lazy and slow, and Prompto cries out. It’s an instant response, his whole body clenching, thighs trembling and belly twitching as he sinks down on Noct’s cock and comes _hard,_ painting his heaving chest and Noct’s fingers white with sticky release. It’s instinct taking over, because Prompto’s mind is gone, white euphoria coursing through his veins, sending him spinning in the clouds. He’s riding out his orgasm though, leaning forward now, both hands moving to grip rough and urgent at Noct’s shoulders, still rolling his hips in those desperate, lazy circles, and it’s a good thing when Noct tenses and comes inside of him with wet hot spurts, because Prompto’s twitching and crying out with every final little thrust, overstimulated and hypersensitive, each bump to his prostate overwhelming, bordering on pain, making his cock drool final little streaks of his release.

 

Slowly, the world returns, and Prompto realizes he’s leaning against Noct’s chest now, his cock softening between them. His chest is splattered with come, and so is the hand that Noct’s got on his thigh, sticky fingers rubbing circles into muscles that are still twitching and burning from the effort of sex. Prompto shudders a low, needy moan, even as he lifts up and slips free from Noctis, feeling the remnants of their mess trickle down his thighs.

 

“I’m gonna have to do laundry,” Prompto grumbles out when he finds the energy to talk. Shared laundry is the worst. “You know what a pain it is to find a free machine in this place?”

 

“You’re thinking about laundry right now?” Noct’s voice is a little incredulous, but he’s laughing a little too, and he tugs Prompto’s face up for a kiss, soft and surprisingly gentle, given they’ve just had a very long, messy bout of really good sex.

 

“Well yeah. What are _you_ thinking about?” Prompto mumbles as the kiss parts.

 

Noctis grins, and wipes his messy hand up Prompto’s side – payback for earlier. “Breakfast.”

 

\---

 

They’re in the kitchen when the front door the apartment opens, and Prompto’s glad that he bothered to put pants back on. Noct’s sitting at the little kitchen table they have set up in the corner. He’s got a pair of Prompto’s sweatpants on, and he hasn’t bothered with a shirt. His hair’s a mess. Prompto doesn’t look any better, in a pair of track shorts and a tank top, and he’s proudly wearing the ‘just got laid’ expression, cheeks flushed, eyes a little far-off. He’s definitely walking with a very incriminating, but intensely satisfying, limp.

 

Prompto’s currently admiring the tattoo that he’s just noticed exists on Noct’s shoulderblade. It’s got some nice red scratches marring the smooth inked lines – fingernail marks – and he feels a little guilty that he’s just fucked a guy senseless without even noticing it.

 

“It’s a carbuncle,” Noctis says as he swipes through his phone, replying to a text message, brow a little furrowed. Prompto doesn’t ask what he’s doing, but he tips his head, admiring the little tattoo. “It’s a mythical beast from a story my dad told me when I was a kid.”

 

Prompto’s itching to ask for more information about it, but he doesn’t. It’s a well-done tattoo, surprisingly cute, something he wouldn’t expect a guy like Noctis to have. It resembles a cat, or a fox, long eared and long tailed, caught in mid-jump, done in sweeping strokes of blue watercolor. It suits Noctis, Prompto decides, though he could swear he’s seen a similar tattoo like that before.

 

So he’s just got a kettle of water boiling on the stove and some poptarts thrown into the toaster when the front door opens. Prompto offers a half-wave to his roommate as she steps inside. Cindy’s cute, and she knows it, with curly blonde hair and a southern drawl that makes men weak in the knees. Prompto would’ve tried to sleep with her at some point, if he wasn’t painfully aware that she’s totally out of his league. She’s a good roommate though. He turns his head to smile at her, and then sets to pouring the boiling water into two mugs.

 

“Hey sweetie,” she greets, and then she stops and sees Noctis. And her eyes widen.

 

“Holy shit hon, you probably hear this a _whole lot,_ but are—“

 

Prompto’s a bit confused by the conversation, do the two know each other? He doesn’t comment though, because he’s spooning instant coffee into the mugs, giving each a couple good stirs to dissolve the crystals, and then he dumps a scoop of chocolate-flavoured creamer powder into each. The result is a horrendous amalgamation of shitty instant coffee and equally shitty chocolate milk.

 

If Prompto had eyes in the back of his head, he would’ve seen the dark glare that Noct immediately offers, and the cut-throat way it shuts her up mid-sentence. Behind Prompto’s back, Noctis is glaring and making somewhat rude hand gestures, and Cindy apparently gets the hint, because her tone changes a little and she shifts gears immediately, awkwardly kicking her flats off. “Well, uh, sweethearts, it’s been a long night, think I need a nap… Prompto, don’t’cha think maybe you should take your boy there _out_ for a _proper_ meal?”

 

Cindy, bless her heart, is properly ashamed on both of their behalves, that Prompto is about to serve famous celebrity, Noctis Caelum, some shitty store-brand instant coffee from a mug that’s half-washed at best, complete with powdered creamer. And poptarts. S’mores poptarts at least – the good kind – but still not exactly quality food. Prompto, however, is still oblivious.

 

Prompto blinks. The toaster pops, and he burns his fingers a little scooping the poptarts up and throwing them down onto a plate. “I mean, we can go out if you wanna, Noct.” His bank account is screaming at the thought, but Prompto feels a bit of guilt too, cuz he knows that Noctis will probably just pay. That’s their trend at this point, even though Prompto’s definitely not taking it for granted.

 

“This is fine,” Noctis says, putting his phone down and offering up a pleased little half-smile as Prompto offers him the steaming mug of cheap coffee and the plate of poptarts. “Best breakfast I’ve had in a while, Prom, don’t worry about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea i got nothing this is numi's fault, sorry, this story went from cute innocent fun to cockslut prom and then 8k words happened lmao. i was going to end it after the bj but i was told not to cockblock prom soooooooo~
> 
> (it's totally my fault, ludic got me down and i wanted to write smut.... dirty dirty messy smut....)


	5. Bet's On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto knows how to google literally everything except his boyfriend's name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork for this chapter [ here ](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DDR0vsqXgAA7-Ko.jpg). Art is by the amazing Numi, as usual, story by me. :)

Over the next couple of weeks, Noctis becomes a regular at Prompto’s shitty little apartment.

 

Honestly, Prompto doesn’t quite get the appeal. In reality, slumming with the poor folk probably has some sort of appeal for someone who’s lived a lavish life for as long as they can remember. Prompto’s not privy to that sort of information though, because he is absolutely oblivious to it all. There’s an incident where they go for an afternoon walk in the park and Prompto teases Noct the entire time for wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. His boyfriend is weird. Or another time when a complete stranger approaches them at dinner and seems really interested in talking to Noct for no fucking reason.

 

Prompto decides that Noctis is just weird and has really bad luck. He attracts the strangest people. Maybe that’s why they’re together, because Prompto’s strange, too.

 

Whatever though. Prompto’s on cloud nine. He orders the cutest chocobo patterned phone case he can find online to secure his nice new phone. It’s awesome owning a cell phone that can hold a charge for more than a couple of hours on a good day. One day when Noctis shows up at Prompto’s apartment, he brings groceries with him.

 

“I can’t cook,” Noctis admits, sheepishly. It’s mostly frozen food, instant pizzas and burritos and the like. But it’s the brand name stuff, not the shitty store brand, pink-goo-mixed-with-cardboard variety chicken nuggets that Prompto is used to. “I’ve been eating all your food. Least I could do.”

 

“I dunno how I ever lucked out with you,” Prompto says with flushed cheeks, and after he puts away the groceries, he tugs Noctis into the bedroom and shows him just how much he appreciates him, in the best way that he absolutely can.

 

Later after Noct leaves, when he and Cindy are feasting on fancy brand-name frozen lasagna (and it’s so good, like he’ll have to run ages because it’s all meat and pasta and cheese, but _worth_ ), Cindy eyes Prompto very seriously. “Hon, I think you have yourself a sugar daddy.”

 

Prompto flushes and denies it vehemently. Noct’s just a really nice guy.

 

So they’ve been doing this little back-and-forth thing for a couple of weeks now. Noct’s been here two nights in a row, which Prompto thinks is a very nice milestone in their relationship. He makes a mental note to add the date to his phone calendar, so if – no, when – they are together on this date next year, he can be obnoxious and remind Noctis of this particular achievement.

 

Noctis is asleep in Prompto’s bed - he’s very asleep, and very satisfied, too – when Prompto stirs from his own dazed nap. It’s early afternoon. Prompto didn’t intend to fall asleep, but Noct’s very comfortable, and his boyfriend absolutely wasn’t lying when he admitted to really liking sleep. It’s a miracle that Noct gets anything done. So Prompto throws on a pair of boxers, in case Cindy is home. He thinks the door opened earlier. He scratches the back of his head and wanders into the kitchen to get a glass of the fancy iced tea Noctis brought him, and maybe a snack.

 

Except there’s two people sitting in his living room. Two people that Prompto definitely doesn’t recognize. He stops in the doorway and blinks, and is suddenly painfully aware that he’s mostly naked. And well, he might be a little more terrified, but he’s half-asleep still, and he’s at an age where strangers appearing randomly in his apartment isn’t exactly a surprise, especially since Cindy has a notorious party girl side.

 

Prompto clears his throat. “Uh. Hi. You here for Cindy?”

 

The two dudes look up. The first one, he doesn’t look like he’s Cindy’s type at all. He looks… well, smart and stylish, with carefully spiked hair and sharp glasses that accentuate a very well-defined, clean-shaven jaw. He’s wearing a pair of slacks, a dress shirt, and a suit coat, an impeccable one, that Prompto instinctively knows costs more than, well, probably everything he owns.

 

Dude number two, dubbed ‘big guy’ in Prompto’s mind, instantly, well he’s more Cindy’s type. All bulking muscle, dressed way more casually in jeans and a tank top, and there’s some impressive ink covering both shoulders and swirling all the way down his arms. He’s handsome in a rugged, kinda terrifying kind of way. A good terrifying though. Long, dark hair, a bit of a scruffy beard, and a sexy scar running across his face. He’s grinning easily though, standing up and taking a broad step forward and offering a hand to Prompto.

 

“Sorry to crash your apartment. Door was unlocked. We’re here for Noct, actually.”

 

Prompto blinks a couple of times. Did he forget to lock the door? Probably. It wouldn’t be the first time. He smiles though, and takes the guy’s hand, and shakes it, with the best firm grip he can muster up. Big Guy is large enough to crush him easily, but he’s got a personality that sets Prompto immediately at ease. He likes him, he decides.

 

“I’m Prompto,” Prompto chirps out, with an easy grin, and even though he’s still painfully aware that he’s got a bare chest, freckled shoulders and scarred hips and very slightly pudgy tummy and all, it’s somehow easy to ignore all that, to push aside the little rise of anxiety tightening in his chest and making it slightly harder to breathe.

 

“Gladio,” big guy offers up, and he gestures at the other man, “and that’s Ignis.”

 

Fancy dude, now officially known as Ignis, stands as well, and offers Prompto a long, scrutinizing gaze before offering a gloved hand out for a firm handshake. Prompto decides he also likes this Ignis, though he’s far more terrifying that Gladio, even though he’s shorter and thinner.

 

“So you’re the boyfriend,” Ignis says, voice silky-smooth with a hint of what Prompto thinks might be amusement.

 

“Guess I am, huh?” Prompto grins widely at that, because the fact that Noctis is talking about him… that’s a good thing, right? Prompto has no idea who these guys are, of course, and maybe he should be concerned that Noctis has friends who have no qualms with breaking and entering someone’s apartment (though if the door is unlocked, does that count as breaking and entering?) and making themselves at home. Or the whole matter of the Rolex on Gladio’s wrist, the fact that Ignis is definitely wearing a Brioni coat… Prompto doesn’t have an eye for those kinds of details though, nevermind the fact that he’s a photographer.

 

“Noct’s sleeping,” Prompto continues on, anyway, his mind working a million miles an hour.

 

Ignis arches an eyebrow. Prompto examines the man. Ignis has the look of someone impossibly put together. His features are perfect, down to every little minute detail.

 

“Guess you want me to wake him up, huh?” Prompto, for some reasons, feels the urge to fidget and flush just from a single glance from Ignis. “Might take a bit, I figure you guys know what he’s like, huh…?”

 

“We’re in no hurry,” Gladio replies with a big grin. “Haven’t had lunch, either. If you don’t mind us hanging around for a bit, we can order some lunch and wait around for Noctass to wake up. Scent of pizza gets through to him sometimes.”

 

Prompto can’t help it, he laughs a little, “I mean, I know plenty of things that get through to Noct while he’s asleep,” and he has the good nature to blush brightly even as Gladio bursts into laughter and Ignis cracks a wicked little smile. “… yeah. Make yourselves at home, guys. I’m gonna get dressed, if that’s okay…”

 

Of course, the invitation isn’t really needed, since the two have been sitting on his couch anyway and seemed to have made themselves quite at home without any of Prompto’s input. “Sounds great,” Gladio agrees amiably. And Prompto makes a quick retreat to his room to at least put some proper clothing on. In a perfect world, he’d take a shower and fix his hair and his makeup. In reality, he throws on some lazy clothes, dumps some water on his face and over his head, decides his hair is a lost cause, and pauses to press a kiss to Noct’s forehead before making his way back out. The two men in his living room are apparently deep in a quiet conversation.

 

And, unfortunately for Prompto’s poor roommate, Cindy’s picked the time that he’s in the bathroom to come home. She’s currently quite involved in said conversation, and even though Prompto can’t make out what being said, she’s obviously uncomfortable, a hand on her hip and a defensive look in her eyes.

 

“Hey,” Prompto says, standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his neck, “Cindy, see you met Noct’s friends.”

 

Prompto’s never seen Cindy look scared in his entire life. She’s got enough sass to shame any guy who dares treat her wrong, and she’s got more street sense than anyone he’s ever met. Right now though, she looks thoroughly shaken, and when Prompto ambles in, she outright jumps.

 

“Prom,” she drawls, and she’s quick to shake off what almost appears to be nervousness. “You sure have gone and got yourself a buncha fancy friends, huh?”

 

“Wouldn’t quite call it that,” Prompto laughs sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his damp hair.

 

“Lies. We’re best friends now, aren’t we Prompto?” Gladio smiles easily, and Prompto finds it just as easy to smile back. He really does like Gladio.

 

“Guess I’ll be goin’,” Cindy takes her chance to escape. If Prompto knew what she knows, he absolutely wouldn’t blame her. As is, he’s kinda confused by the whole thing.

 

“Nice having that chat with you,” Ignis offers up, and the look she shoots him is one Prompto can’t recognize. Honestly, Cindy’s probably torn between being genuinely a bit distressed or outright snapping and turning on him for threatenin’ a gal, but. Well, it’s Prompto we’re talking about here. Who are we kidding? He’s still oblivious.

 

“How do you guys know Noct, anyway?” Prompto settles himself down on the old armchair next to the couch. It looks like there might be room if he really wants to squish in next to Gladio but… well. Prompto likes the guy already, but he doesn’t like him that much. Meeting new people, it sometimes triggers a bit of anxiety, makes it hard to breathe and stuff. Things that Prompto’s mostly worked through, but… there are still moments.

 

“We work with him,” Ignis offers, delicately, and he’s still giving Prompto that _look_. Like there’s some secret that Prompto isn’t privy to, that he should be aware of.

 

That makes sense. It also immediately has Prompto’s interest, of course, because Noctis doesn’t talk about his job. However, sometimes Noctis talks about his friends though, and now that Prompto’s thinking about it, he definitely remembers the two names, Ignis and Gladio, because they’ve popped up in conversation here and there. “Hey, you’re the one who cooks, right?” Prompto grins at Ignis, “and you’re the one he goes camping with. Yeah, Noct’s told me all about you guys.” Okay. All about is a bit of an overstatement, but whatever, Prompto can go with it.

 

It seems that Prompto’s said the right thing, anyway, because Gladio launches into a great number of tales about their adventures camping through the mountains, about the time a bear roamed into their camp and stole their cooking supplies and Ignis chased after it with a pair of daggers while Gladio laughed… Noctis, apparently, slept through the entire thing.

 

“We were eating cup noodles that entire trip,” Ignis says solemnly, shaking his head, though there’s a hint of a smile peeking through.

 

“Nah, it was the best damn trip ever,” Gladio grins, brightly, catching Prompto’s eye, and it… somehow puts Prompto at ease. Somehow, he feels like he belongs with this strange little group of friends. Even though really, with some critical thinking, it’s not hard to figure out that Ignis is here to scope out the situation and ensure that Noctis can’t get into a good deal of trouble here. And Gladio, with all his muscles, is clearly, well, the muscles in this particular relationship.

 

The doorbell rings, eventually, and the pizza arrives. Prompto grabs a few plates and opens the fridge. “Soda or beer? As a warning, can’t promise it’s good beer.”

 

“I’ll take a beer,” Gladio’s eyeing the pizza happily. Ignis looks like he’s about to take a napkin to his to dab off the grease, and with that expensive clothing he’s wearing, Prompto can’t really say he’s surprised (and, on Prompto’s part, the struggle is real, what with the extra calories and all). “Water for Iggy. He’s driving. Also, he’s horribly boring.”

 

“Well, someone has to be responsible around you children,” Ignis rolls his eyes, but the words are amiable.

 

“Uh, we’ve only got tap water. We’re kinda poor, in case you haven’t guessed already,” Prompto blushes a little, but Ignis reassures him that’s fine, and he reaches around into the back of the cupboard to find the cleanest look glass, one that isn’t covered in fingerprints and smudges and old bits of dried crumbs from a half-assed washing job.

 

He hands the plates and drinks over, and they settle in, and maybe Prompto ends up being the guilty party to mop at the gooey cheese with a napkin to soak up the grease. “So,” he says finally, when his mouth is pleasantly full of messy, junky pizza – hey, sex burns a lot of calories, right? Prompto will google it one of these days, and he’ll be sad about that answer – “Noct doesn’t exactly talk about his personal life a lot. What exactly do you guys all do for work?”

 

Ignis hesitates a split second. Gladio’s got his mouth full, but he shoots Ignis a look.

 

And, because ridiculous coincidences follow Prompto around at this point, Noctis picks that exact moment to shuffle down the hallway in just a pair of boxers that’s hanging far too long on his hips to be entirely decent, or appropriate. “Hey,” he mumbles sleepily, blinking at his the scene before him. “Smelled food. What’re you guys doing here?”

 

“Someone wasn’t answering his phone,” Ignis replies, somewhat stiffly. “We were mildly concerned for your safety.”

 

Noctis settles down next in the armchair next to Prompto. It’s absolutely not intended for two people, and their thighs are squished together, with one of Noct’s legs thrown over his. He reaches and steals a slice of pizza off Prompto’s plate, and even though Prompto groans and grumbles about it, he lets it happen.

 

“Sorry,” Noctis mumbles between bites of pizza, “we were having sex. Wasn’t exactly checking my phone.”

 

“Noct,” Prompto’s cheeks turn bright red, even as Ignis rolls his eyes and Gladio bursts out laughing at the overt statement, and the absolutely casual, lazy way Noctis says it. “C’mon you don’t have to let the whole world know! That’s embarrassing.”

 

“What’s embarrassing,” Noctis wrinkles his nose and leaves the crust of the pizza on Prompto’s plate, “is that you’ve got a giant hickey on your neck, Prom. Think it’s no secret to anyone what we’ve been up to.”

 

“You’re shameless,” Prompto sighs, but well, it’s a bit nice to see Noctis acting open and playful about their relationship in front of his friends. Even though they haven’t quite defined what their relationship even is (apart from the whole vague sorta-boyfriends thing), and even though Prompto’s pretty sure he should be terrified of Ignis. He should probably be terrified of Gladio too, but it’s kinda hard to be. And in any case, Noctis is… well, Noctis, and any new little side of him that Prompto sees somehow makes him fall even further.

 

After they eat, Noctis bothers to get half-assed dressed (even though he skips the shower, and absolutely reeks of sex), because it turns out Ignis is here to pick him up for some vaguely mentioned appointment or another. They’re waiting for him outside, and Noct pauses at the door.

 

“Hey,” he says to Prompto, an arm curling around him as he tugs him in for a kiss, one that’s way too affectionate to just be about sex at this point. Weeks into this, and it’s still making Prompto’s heart thump and his head spin like he’s a fumbling virgin. “Your car’s still dead, huh?”

 

Prompto groans, and he leans in to press a lazy line of kisses along Noct’s jaw, reluctant to let him go, even though Noct’s promised to come by again tomorrow. “Don’t remind me. It’s officially dead.”

 

Noct draws away for a moment, long enough to fish in his back pocket, and then he’s pressing something into Prompto’s palm, hand closing his fingers around it. “Here, then. Since Iggy’s driving me anyway. And don’t even try to say no. I can borrow my dad’s car.”

 

Prompto’s eyes widen, and he sputters as he looks down at his hand, clutching at Noct’s car keys. “Dude. Noct. You know I can’t—“

 

Noctis silences him with a kiss though, long and hard, and it takes Prompto’s breath away. “Shut it. The insurance covers third party drivers, you’re fine. Anything happens and I’ll just get it fixed. You need a car, you can’t bike everywhere… I’ll text you, okay?”

 

It all happens very fast, and then Noct’s blowing a kiss at Prompto and the apartment door closes in his face. Prompto blinks. He stares at the keys, dumbly. What the hell is even happening in his life anymore?

 

Later, after googling Noct’s car and realizing it’s a $170,000 Italian-made race car, Prompto very swiftly puts the keys in his desk drawer, safely stored next to his collection of sex toys, and decides that he’ll walk to work instead. He’s in over his head, and alarm bells should maybe be going off that he’s what, dating a member of the mafia? Prompto can’t bring himself to be too concerned though, not when Noctis is so nice and gorgeous, and all those amazing emotions that make him feel like he’s floating.

 

Definitely walking to work though. Not a question there.

 

\---

 

It’s about a week later. Prompto’s been trying to give Noctis back his keys, but they just seem to always end up being forgotten when Noctis leaves again. He finds them on the kitchen counter, or on his computer desk, or in his jacket pocket… places that Prompto definitely didn’t put them himself, because he keeps explicitly handing them back to Noctis.

 

Finally, it seems, Noct’s getting frustrated with it.

  
“Prompto,” he says quite seriously one evening. True to his word about having access to other cars, Noct’s been driving around a different fancy car, though apparently it’s _still_ not the particular car of his dad’s that he’s been itching to drive. They’re sitting in Prompto’s living room watching Netflix. Noct’s given Prompto  his login info so he doesn’t have to steal Cindy’s account anymore. There’s just something so special about sharing a Netflix account with the person you care about that’s got Prompto’s heart bursting every time he opens the app. Noct made him his own profile, too, but Prompto’s still using Noct’s, maybe-kinda-sorta to mess around with his recommendations and to add things into his queue that he low-key wants Noctis to watch.

 

“Noctis,” Prompto echoes back, attempting a similar level of sincerity and failing miserably. He can’t help it, as he tips his head and he meets Noct’s eyes and that little flutter of warmth spreads through his chest again. Okay. So Prompto’s like, ridiculous levels of happy here. Each day is better than the last. It’s a cliché mess, and Prompto’s pretty sure that he is every bit the pathetic lovesick fool that he feels.

 

Noct’s lips quirk up in a little half-smile, one that he quickly tries to mask with a serious look. He fails though, and their shoulders nudge. “How come you haven’t been driving my car?”

 

Prompto groans. They’ve been through this a hundred times already. Well, maybe not a hundred, but a lot. And It’s been like. A week. “Noct. Babe.” And yeah. The little endearing pet name slips in there. Prompto isn’t bothering to deny that he’s fallen miserably here. “We’ve had this conversation.”

 

Noctis shifts, turning in his seat to meet Prompto’s gaze, and he rolls his eyes and offers up a _look._ “And I keep telling you not to worry. I trust you.”

 

Prompto manages a laugh though, and he rubs at the back of his head awkwardly, “uh, Noct, you’ve met me, right? I can’t even _walk_ to work without running into something. I’m _not_ driving your car. Not gonna be that person who crashes it.”

 

“So, you’d rather my car just live in the parking space in front of your building?” Noct has this particular voice. It’s his _spoiled brat_ voice, as Prompto’s come to think of it. It’s got a hint of a whine to it, a good amount of pleading, and it absolutely gets under Prompto’s skin instantly and wrenches at his heart. Goddamnit.

 

“ _Noctis,_ c’mon, don’t talk in that voice…” Prompto groans, but he’s already giggling, the serious mood totally ruined, and he leans in, presses his face into Noct’s neck and layers kisses there.

 

“ _Hey,_ I was talking,” Noctis pushes Prompto’s face away, but he’s smiling too, “you do realize that with the way people in this place drive, you’re more likely to have someone hit my parked car anyway?”

 

Prompto goes in for another kiss anyway, and Noct doesn’t have the heart to swat his face away this time. “Yeah but if the car’s parked, it’s not my fault. Deniability, Noct, is everything.”

 

Prompto’s pleased when Noctis doesn’t answer immediately. He’s tipping his head back instead, and Prompto’s lips expertly travel down along his jaw, over his neck, to the spot behind Noct’s ear that’s particularly sensitive. The sex has been _good,_ outright fucking fantastic, but now that they’re figuring out all the nuances, the exact ways they like it, it’s only promising to get better. Everything about this relationship, really, in Prompto’s mind, is amazing. Maybe he’s just so caught up on those facts, it might actually explain the obliviousness in other certain areas.

 

“You work tomorrow? Or have class?” Noctis says suddenly, in between quiet sighs and pleased sounds when Prompto’s tongue works magic against his skin. Prompto’s not entirely interested in talking right now, honestly, unless that _talking_ involves Noctis moaning his name. Or maybe telling him all the filthy things he’s gonna do to him. That kind of talking is okay.

 

“Nah,” Prompto’s voice is muffled against Noct’s skin. He’s feeling the familiar spread of fire through his veins, and he lifts onto his knees, moves to straddle Noct’s lap and get his arms wrapped around his neck proper. “Why? You wanna stay in bed _all day_ with me, Noct?” and yeah, Prompto’s playing dirty, lifting away enough to offer a look that’s all lidded-eyes, the first red strokes of heated arousal lighting his cheeks up.

 

Noct pauses for a moment, and meets his gaze, and just the damn look they share is electric. It makes Prompto’s pants feel uncomfortably tight, and he’s pretty much ready to drag Noct down the hall and into bed. Or, hell, to take him right here, riding him on the couch – but, that’s pretty shitty roommate etiquette, even if they’re the only ones here.

 

“Always wanna stay in bed with you all day,” Noctis says after a moment’s pause, and he laughs, “but I had something different in mind. I _miss_ driving my car, y’know. So if you won’t drive it, I will. C’mon, let’s pack a bag. We’re going somewhere tonight.”

 

Prompto’s torn. He really wants to push this, to work his hands under Noct’s shirt, to drag blunt nails down his boyfriend’s chest and leave red scratches while he rides the hell out of him. But… the idea of letting Noct whisk him away on an impromptu overnight trip? Yeah, that appeals to Prompto’s romantic side way too much for him to give up the opportunity.

 

“Okay,” Prompto agrees, but he leans in and catches Noct’s lips in a heavy, heated kiss, lingering and passionate, before he parts and slips out of his boyfriend’s lap. It doesn’t take Prompto too long to pack, even though he absolutely grabs some of his cosmetics, his shampoo, and deliberates for a few minutes on just what clothing to pack. There’s a quiet sense of satisfaction, too, when Prompto realizes that enough of Noct’s clothing has migrated over to his place that he can pack clean clothes for Noctis, too.

 

He’s grabbing the spare (‘emergency’) travel-sized tube of lubricant from the bathroom drawer – an essential item to pack, naturally – when Prompto’s eyes hone in one of the toys he has tucked away in the back corner, mostly hidden underneath some unopened cosmetics. He unconsciously palms over the front of his pants – he’s still a little flushed, breathless and in that semi-aroused state – and Prompto grins, and makes an evil little decision.

 

\---

 

They’re out of the city and well on their way into the desert when Prompto realizes that Noctis really _is_ taking him on a fancy getaway.

 

“Thought we were just gonna go out for the night,” Prompto says as he fiddles with the air conditioning in the car. It’s early evening, and the sun’s just starting to set enough that it’s finally cooling off, and it’s too cold in the car to be blasting the AC. It’s not cool enough to fully turn it off though, either. Serious first world problems. Not to mention, every time Prompto shifts, there’s a particular _heavy_ feeling inside of him, pressing all the right places.

 

“Galdin’s not a far drive,” Noctis says lazily. He’s clearly missed driving his car though, and the desert road is a long, straight shoot, rather isolated once they got past the regular city traffic and through the foothills that keep Insomnia’s climate temperate. Prompto can’t bring himself to look at the speedometer, because he’s got some low-key anxiety about how fast his boyfriend is going, even though he absolutely trusts Noctis, and he’s very well aware the car is built to go that damn fast.

 

It’s also a very smooth ride, but Prompto is _very_ aware of every single little bump of the road. Every. Single. One. He shifts awkwardly, and makes sure that Noct can’t quite see the bulge in his pants.

 

“We’re going to Galdin?” Prompto focuses on that instead, and his eyes widen a little. He’s been there once, when he was a kid, with his uncle, but they didn’t stay at any of the nicer resorts. Prompto can’t afford shit like that. He knows that the resorts are pricy though – and a last-minute booking? Okay, so Prompto absolutely whips his phone out, expertly angles it away from Noctis in a way that doesn’t outright look like he’s doing just that, and googles ‘Galdin Quay resort bookings.’ His eyes bug out of his head a little when he sees the prices listed for tonight. It’s really expensive. Like, more than Prompto makes in a _month_ expensive.

 

“Noctis,” Prompto tries to keep his voice steady – and they go over a bump and he groans a little despite this - “I uh. Can’t afford this, you know.”

 

Noctis shifts his gaze from the road for a split second to offer up a smile in Prompto’s direction. “Don’t start that shit again. I already booked it for tonight while you were packing. Don’t worry about it. You just have tomorrow off?”

 

Prompto’s whipping up the calendar on his phone. It’s what, Tuesday? “Uh, I have a class on Thursday, but I can miss it, it’s just a review for an assignment I’ve already finished… I work Friday evening, though.”

 

“We’ll leave Friday morning then. I have a work thing on Friday night, too.”

 

“A work thing?” Prompto perks up, and he wants to ask more, but Noctis falls into silence there, and doesn’t offer up any more information. Some day, Prompto will muster up the courage to actually _ask_ Noctis about his job, but he gets the feeling that it’s a bit of a cause of tension in Noct’s life. And hell, Prompto’s kinda okay with his mystery boyfriend having his mystery job. (As long as he doesn’t murder people. That would be bad. Prompto’s pretty sure Noctis is too nice to be a serial killer though.)

 

And hell, Prompto’s never been on a real fancy vacation before. He’s _excited._

When the sun sets and it gets properly dark out, the road empty but for them, pitch black all around except for the brightness of the Maserati’s headlights, Prompto decides that the drive is too fucking long, and he’s impatient. Impatient and incredibly fucking needy. His pants are definitely damp from the head of his erect cock rubbing delicious friction for the past hours.

 

“Prompto,” Noct says slowly, his voice with an edge of warning, when Prompto leans lazily in, a hand sneaking into Noct’s lap.

 

“Noct,” Prompto replies brightly, all sunshine and happiness, as he runs his fingers up the length of Noct’s thigh, slow and deliberate, thumb pressing delicate circles into his boyfriend’s inner thigh. Noct’s leg twitches despite the fact that he’s fully clothed, and Prompto knows he’ll win this.

 

“I’m _driving,_ ” Noctis points out the obvious. Prompto responds with a shift of his hand, and he presses his palm firmly between Noct’s thighs, feeling his boyfriend’s cock twitch to life under the gentle pressure almost immediately. The car swerves just a little and Prompto’s anxiety tries to flare up, but he’s _way_ too interested in other things right now to fully process that.

 

There’s an old, closed rest-area ahead, with cones blocking off the highway exit, and Noctis hits the brakes and turns in anyway, tires skidding, the force of the vehicle sending the pylons skidding. It’s a dirt road and it goes on for a bit, twisting and turning until it opens into what’s a pretty basic rest-area. There’s a parking lot, a couple of old vending machines covered in metal grating – out of service – and a dingy old set of restrooms that have long fallen into disrepair.

 

“Sometimes I really wonder if you’re a serial killer, y’know,” Prompto murmurs as Noctis kills the headlights and turns the car off once they’re pulled into a parking spot. “If this is your idea of a romantic spot to make out.” It really does look like a scene out of a horror movie, but Prompto’s dumb and young and maybe in love, and he’s high on endorphins and lust and feels damn near invincible.

 

Noctis shifts his seat back. He unbuckles his seatbelt, and Prompto’s doing the same when Noctis leans over and gets his arms around him and tugs him awkwardly across the center console to sprawl heavily across his lap.

 

“Not my idea of a romantic spot,” Noctis says, groaning as Prompto shifts and adjusts his seating until he’s perched in Noct’s lap, thighs straining and squeezed into the narrow seat. “I was gonna wait till Galdin to attack you. _You’re_ the one getting handsy.”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, a little dreamily, a whole lot lustily, and he goes in for a kiss, moaning a quiet, happy sound against his boyfriend’s lips as their hips rock together, as it shifts and pulls and presses friction into nice, deep places. It’s a horribly uncomfortable place to make out, of course, the car not quite big enough to accommodate them, the steering wheel pressing uncomfortably into Prompto’s back, but he ignores it.

 

And Noctis wastes no time, returning the kiss, both arms snaking around Prompto’s waist, hands dipping into his pants, slipping down to cup and squeeze and knead at his ass. Prompto smirks knowingly against Noct’s lips, waiting, and…

 

“ _Fuck,”_ Noctis breathes, breaking the kiss and catching Prompto’s eyes in the darkness, only the faint dim light from the dashboard cutting through the night. Noct’s fingers dip right between the cleft of Prompto’s ass, and it’s a surge of heat, of absolute _need,_ feeling him trace around the flared base of the toy he’s had worked up into him for this _entire_ drive. “Prom, when the hell…?”

 

“Before we left,” Prompto’s all need, all heated smiles, and he arches his back best he can, letting the toy bump back into Noct’s fingers. He’s flushing a little, feeling Noctis respond instantly between them, and his voice takes on that breathy, needy quality. “Been a _long_ car ride, Noctis… all spread wide open and craving your dick…”

 

Noctis outright _growls,_ a desperate, needy sound, and he’s opening the car door, sliding out from under Prompto – who loses his balance, slips backwards, and blares the car horn with an elbow for a long moment before he adjusts himself. It’d be hilarious, if they weren’t both desperate and shifting into a very needy, very determined state of mind.

 

“Get your ass over here,” Noctis tugs Prompto forward and to the side, pulling him out of the car. Prompto wants to point out that it’s very counterproductive to be getting _out_ of the car, but before he can say anything, Noct’s spinning him, pressing him face-down across the hood of the car. _Oh._

 

“We’re gonna get caught, Noct,” Prompto gasps out as he feels Noct’s weight press into his back as his boyfriend leans forward, lips biting and nipping and leaving a trail of wet fire across the back of his neck, along the shell of his ear. Maybe Prompto’s okay with that concept, too; maybe it sends a rough thrill of desperate need through him, makes his cock twitch and ache at the very thought of putting on a _show._

 

Noctis laughs softly, and Prompto feels the hot breath against his sensitive skin and shudders. “No we won’t. Nobody for miles.” His hands are moving, pushing Prompto’s shirt up, and it hikes up his belly, the hood of the car warm under Prompto’s skin. Prompto doesn’t give Noctis the satisfaction of moaning or begging for it, and he doesn’t need to, because Noct’s wasting no time in getting his pants and underwear shoved halfway down his thighs.

 

“Fuck, you’re a whore,” Noctis laughs, but it’s all endearment, no actual insult to the words. Prompto groans his agreement, wiggling his ass back and parting his thighs as best as he can in the position he’s in, giving Noct the best view possible of his ass spread open around the plug. It’d been an impulse decision, and it’s absolutely been driving him _insane,_ pushing dull pressure against his prostate with the jostling of the car. In this moment though, hearing the noise Noctis makes, the way he’s gripping at his hip rough enough to leave fingerprint-shaped bruises, Prompto decides it’s absolutely worth it.

 

“ _Your_ whore,” Prompto offers up, twisting to look over his shoulder at Noctis. There’s emotion running between them, and that’s absolutely not lost to him, even though Prompto’s aching and hard and craving more contact. Noct lifts his hips away just enough to unbuckle his belt and get his pants shoved down his thighs – awkward, the way he’s doing it with only one hand - and then he’s coming back in, the hand on Prompto’s hip shifting to splay across his shoulderblades, holding his face pressed into the car.

 

“I’m going to fuck you,” Noctis hisses as he leans over Prompto, fingers slipping back down, curling around the flared base of the toy and giving it a teasing tug. They both moan at that – Noctis, because Prompto’s ass is stretched and still slick with lube as he slowly slips the toy out, thick black silicone, heavy in his hand, and Prompto because it feels so damn good, a hint of pressure against his prostate before the toy’s being tugged free, leaving him feeling wet and open and exposed and _so goddamn ready._

 

“C’mon then,” Prompto moans, and he does his best to arch his back, arms stretched out in front of him as he braces himself against the smooth surface of the car, ass jutting in the air, “fuck me, Noct.”

 

That’s all the encouragement Noctis needs, and it’s a damn good thing Prompto’s still well-prepared from the toy (tossed aside, a shame, Prompto likes that particular toy) because Noct’s not in the mood to mess around. He’s already hard, the head of his cock rubbing teasingly between Prompto’s thighs, leaving a slick trail of precum smeared over one cheek, and then he’s positioning, lining up, and pressing inside with one deep stroke.

 

“ _Fuck,”_ Prompto usually likes to be in control. He likes riding dick, yeah, but he likes to do it on _his_ terms, to turn Noctis into a begging mess. Right now though, Noct’s definitely the one behind this. His hips are drilling forward instantly, filling Prompto up and making him gasp and moan. There’s the familiar stretch, the aching burn that comes with being split open with Noctis’s cock, but the toy’s stretched his rim open and left him needy for so long, all Prompto can focus on is the feeling of being filled, fucking _finally,_ and it drives any of the pain away.

 

Prompto’s gripping desperately for purchase as Noct fucks into him, rough and fast, bent over him, breath hot against his neck. The car doesn’t offer anything to grab onto though, and it’s all he can do to claw frantically, mindless, pleased sounds escaping with the first rough thrust that hits directly into his prostate and makes stars explode before his eyes.

 

“This what you wanted?” Noctis hisses into Prompto’s ear, biting roughly at the lobe, drawing out a response that’s half-moan, half outright scream. Prompto’s shameless, so normally focused on making Noctis feel good, but right now, with his cock throbbing and trapped between the still-warm metal of the car hood and his belly, with his ass spread wide and lifted into the air, a vessel for Noct’s pleasure, there’s almost a strange disassociation. And it’s _good._ It’s all pleasure. It’s a tight knot in Prompto’s belly, the _need_ to come, to feel Noct coming inside of him, wet and messy, and it makes him keen and wriggle his ass back and try to meet the thrusts that are outright pounding him.

 

“ _Please,_ ” Prompto doesn’t have the presence of mind to respond to Noctis, not really. His forehead is wet and sweaty, pressed into the car, his hair fallen over his eyes. He can’t keep a grip, can only do his best to keep from collapsing, to keep his ass up for Noct to take, and even that is so much effort. Prompto’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, and when Noctis shifts the angle, tugs his hips up a little more to get _deeper,_ to plunge deep inside and hit that spot inside over and over again, he outright _screams,_ can’t hold it back.

 

“Lemme hear you, fuck,” Noct’s voice is still all hot breath, and if Prompto had any present of mind, he’d know just how close Noct is. It’s all in the way his breath is hitching, the ragged moan that accompanies the words. Prompto’s lost though. Noct’s so deep, balls slapping against his ass with every thrust, and he’s _helpless,_ mindless, existing only for Noct. When Noct shifts again, works a hand under him to stroke his cock rough and fast in time with his thrusts, it’s over. Prompto’s mind goes blank, the world explodes, and he screams Noct’s name, tensing and going limp and coming over the hand working him, shooting release messy over the hood over the car.

 

Noctis works him through his orgasm, and it’s only when Prompto’s overstimulated and begging and outright trying to squirm away that he releases his grip on his cock. He’s still fucking into him though, and each thrust to his prostate is overstimulation, leaving Prompto begging and limp and mindless, his cheek pressed into a pool of drool because he’s lost all fucking control of his body. Part of him wants to beg Noctis to _stop,_ because his body’s hypersensitive, each thrust edging the line between pain and pleasure, and it’s quickly turning too much, and his mind is screaming _nononoooo._

 

But then, as Prompto’s trying to come down, his body still clenching tight and responding with vicious little aftershocks, he feels Noctis tense, his thighs shake and his belly clench and there’s wet heat flooding into him, filling him up, Noct’s face pressed into the crook of Prompto’s neck laying desperate kisses there, a murmur of his name and fuck, it’s so _endearing_ that Prompto can’t even care that it _hurts._

 

They lie there a moment, Prompto’s aching, trembling body finally coming down, Noctis sprawled heavily on top of him. The world slowly phases back in, and Prompto lifts his head from the hood of the car, his cheek slick from where he’s drooled all over himself, his hair an absolute sweaty mess. His shirt’s pushed up around his chest and it’s soaked with a combination of sweat and his own come. They’re a mess. Why are they always a fucking mess?

 

“My back hurts,” Prompto croaks out, and Noctis takes the hint, laughs and trails a line of kisses down Prompto’s spine as he slowly pulls himself back up to his feet, slipping free. Prompto groans at the wetness sliding out of him, at the feeling of come trickling down his thighs, and he straightens, his legs shaking and threatening to give out as he stands up.

 

“Hey,” Noctis laughs as he slips an arm around Prompto’s waist, hand wiping through the line of come dripping down his stomach and wiping it away, “look. We made a dent in the hood of the car. Now you can stop obsessing over damaging it.”

 

Prompto groans. “Goddamnit Noctis.”

 

“You’re the one who couldn’t wait until we got to the resort,” Noctis says swiftly, and he pulls his hand away, lifts his fingers to his face and licks the come away. He makes a face, and groans at Prompto, “shit, I taste bad, you _like_ this?”

 

Prompto can’t help it. He laughs, tugging his shirt off and using it to wipe between his thighs – it’s sweaty and ruined anyway – and then offers a playful swat in Noct’s direction when he’s done his best half-assed cleaning job. “Gonna feed you lots of fancy drinks with pineapple once we get to the beach.”

 

The teasing mood is infectious though, and Noct can’t help but crack a smile and laugh a little, as he works his pants back up and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “Fruit is _not_ good. Might make an exception for you.”

 

“Must be true love,” Prompto teases, with a little nudge and a kiss to Noct’s shoulder, and the mood is so light and happy, and he’s so high on endorphins and sex and everything else, that he can’t even feel the pang of anxiety that he’s said the four-letter word aloud. _Love._

Yeah. He’s in love.

 

\---

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis and Gladio are totally betting on when the hell this oblivious AF boy is gonna figure it out. 
> 
> I edited all of the smutty bits at Starbucks because my internet is down. Most awkward porn ever. Prom tried to powerbottom and it failed, and he's OK with that. I am too tbh.
> 
> The next chapter really is going to bump up the ridiculousness levels of this and I'm not even sorry. Y'know those tropey beach adventures in anime???? Yeah pretty much that. There's no way I can't write that. See yall next round! 
> 
> on tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest. <3


	6. Seashells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto overhears a rumour on the beach and spends his day celebrity hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 artwork [ here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DDce2xGWAAA_pdT.jpg) ! Y'know the drill. all art by numi.

It’s late when they finally make it to Galdin Quay, no thanks to their little pit stop. Prompto digs out a clean shirt from the bag he packed for them, and he’s definitely regretting his decision to try and pack in moderation. Because now that they’re spending a few days here, and now that he’s already had to change, he’s painfully aware that he’s gonna run out of clothes.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Noctis rolls his eyes when Prompto mentions the opportunity of doing laundry, “when’s the last time you bought something new? Let me treat you.” Prompto’s pretty sure he’s at the point where he can’t exactly complain about this particular turn of their relationship, too, because Noct’s been buying him stuff for weeks now. Oops.

 

Noctis tells Prompto to wait while he gets them all checked in, and Prompto’s tired, half-asleep in his seat, so he doesn’t complain. His eyes are bleary and his contacts are half-stuck to his eyes, and he doesn’t even notice the second-glance the valet offers Noctis when he hands over the keys.

 

They’re staying at one of the nicest resorts Prompto’s ever seen. It’s right along the main stretch of shops that line the beach, and it’s built into the side of the ocean next to the pier. Even half-asleep as he is, Prompto’s eyes go a little wide and his head is spinning as Noctis curls an arm around his waist and guides him into a side entrance and to their suite.

 

It’s definitely a suite, too. They’ve got a balcony that opens up to a perfect ocean view, a massive king-sized bed, and a ridiculous jacuzzi tub that’s bigger than Prompto’s entire bathroom. The whole thing is elaborate, excessive, absolutely romantic, and Prompto’s positive he doesn’t deserve any of this.

 

“Shit, Noct. How the hell do you afford all this?!” Prompto breathes out, outright letting himself fall back and collapse down onto the bed. The mattress is soft, and the blankets are luxurious, and the sheets are… well, Prompto’s not familiar with fancy sheets, but they’re some really high thread count and he wants to just roll around in them for ages.

 

Noctis doesn’t offer up a reply, but he crawls onto the bed and straddles Prompto’s hips and leans down to kiss him, long and hard, pinning his hands over his head.

 

“You wanna break in the bed?” Noctis grins against Prompto’s lips as they part, and he looks so good like this, his eyes flashing in the dim lights, expertly designed to provide the perfect romantic ambiance.

 

“Damn right I do,” Prompto purrs his agreement, and he lets Noct keep him pinned down, hips rocking up, and even though he’s exhausted and sore from earlier, his body hasn’t quite figured that out, because he’s already half-erect and well on the way to more, and hell, like Prompto’s going to pass up the opportunity to make love with an ocean view.

 

\---

 

Prompto’s up before sunrise, as usual.

 

This sunrise, though, is a very different one from usual. And he’s in a very different bed than his usual one, too.

 

His eyes flutter open, and Noct’s weight is pressed up against his back, a feeling that’s familiar by now. Prompto’s come to expect it, yeah, but there’s always a bright little flutter in his chest, and today’s no exception. Prompto’s gotta get up and go for a run, but he’s warm and happy, and he takes a few moments to just snuggle back against Noctis and relax. At some point before they passed out, Noctis crawled out of bed and opened the window, and there’s a nice breeze fluttering through the window, washing away the smell of sweat and sex. The blankets are pooled down around their waists, soft and luxurious, and Prompto’s pretty sure this is the best morning of his entire life. He could easily get used to living like this, and it’s an enticing little thought, one that Prompto doesn’t want to entertain too much, because, well, he’s already fallen way too fucking hard, in such a short time.

 

Slowly, finally, Prompto drags himself up out of bed. He’s sore, aching between his thighs in an absolutely amazing way, stretched from the toy the day before, the rough bout of sex thrown over the hood of Noct’s car, and then a couple of times when they’d made it here. They’re like a couple of insatiable teenagers, and that thought is really far too warming in itself, as well.

 

The resort has a pretty nice fitness room, apparently, Prompto discovers after he washes his face quickly and throws on a quick pair of gym shorts and a tank top that he has the foresight to pack. He decides against hitting the treadmill though, in favour of the stretch of open beach and the expanse of boardwalk that runs parallel to it. After all, it’s not every damn day he gets the opportunity to have an ocean-side morning run.

 

Prompto quickly realizes he’s forgotten to pack his headphones, but it’s fine. The sound of the waves crashing on the shoreline is a welcome one, and even though it’s early, there’s already a fair number of people out wandering along the beach and sitting on benches, watching the sun come up over the horizon. Prompto’s a bit of an “extroverted introvert” but he low-key really enjoys listening to other people’s conversations, and he can’t help but overhear bits and pieces of conversation.

 

And he doesn’t really mean to eavesdrop, but Prompto swears he hears someone mention’s Noct’s name, which is… bizarre, given it’s not exactly a common name. He pauses, pretends to be tying his shoelace and catching his breath, and there’s little snippets and pieces of the conversation drifting his way.

 

“... caught a glimpse of it when we walked through the valet parking lot…” a male voice is saying, and Prompto narrows in on a young couple nearby.

 

Prompto can’t quite hear, and he casually shifts a little closer to the gossipy couple that’s sitting on the beach just a bit ahead of him. They pay him no attention, sipping at fancy looking lattes, heads close together as they chat and stare at the sunrise.

 

“It’d be really cool,” the woman is saying, and her voice carries better, she sounds like the loud, gossipy type, “if we could see him. I know celebrities come here all the time! But I’ve never actually seen one, y’know? And a _movie star!”_

 

Prompto’s interest is piqued. Celebrities, in Galdin Quay? He knows, of course, that it’s a popular spot to visit. Prompto hasn’t ever expected to have the opportunity to meet someone famous though. Maybe he can _network,_ get some real photgraphy credit in. More than likely, he can just quietly freak out to Noctis. But hell, they’re staying in a fancy resort… oh man, maybe they’ll _see_ one.

 

He tries to get a little bit closer, but in his excitement, Prompto trips over his own damn feet and he goes vaulting forward through the air, groaning and sputtering as he lands face-first in the sand. The couple ahead of him turn and look and the girl starts to jump up to ask if he’s alright, but Prompto only grumbles and picks himself up and brushes sand off his front as he turns and jogs off back toward the fancy resort they’re at. Busted. It’s food for thought though, and he barely even registers the two miles run back to their room.

 

\---

 

“Noctis,” Prompto says very excitedly, during breakfast. Noct’s ordered room service, and it’s so many carbs, and so much sugar, and probably absolutely terrible for him, but he couldn’t resist the banana and Nutella waffles. He just _couldn’t._ They even have powdered sugar sprinkled on top. He’s got a fancy latte too. Noct’s opted for a soda and bacon and eggs, a very basic, very ‘Noct’ type breakfast.

 

“Prompto,” Noctis deadpans back. Noct isn’t a morning person, and even though Prompto absolutely woke him up with a phenomenal blowjob after showering off the sweat from his run, it’s still too early for Noct to be properly awake.

 

“So. Guess what gossip I heard on the beach,” Prompto’s well aware he’s brimming with excitement. They’re sitting out on the little balcony. There’s a little table and two chairs set up out there, probably for this express purpose of enjoying a meal with the ocean breeze flirting against their skin and the gorgeous view to take their breath away. Honestly, Prompto's too busy with the view that is his boyfriend, though. And more than that, he’s bouncing in his chair a little bit at the whole concept of seeing someone famous.

 

“When were you on the beach?” Noctis replies, taking a drink of his soda and running a hand idly through his sleep-mussed hair. He’s shirtless, and Prompto’s outright enjoying the toned lines of Noct’s chest and abdomen.

 

“I told you, I went running earlier, do you even listen?” Prompto rushes through that bit though - it’s not important. “Anyway. I heard a girl saying there’s some rumour that a big-shot movie star’s in town. How cool would that be, Noct?!”

 

Noctis chokes on his soda. Some of it sputters out of his nose, and he makes a desperate gasping noise and reaches for a napkin.

 

Naturally, Prompto misinterprets Noctis’s reaction as similar excitement, just like how he fell face-first into the sand. Prompto is an all-natural blonde, which should come a surprise to absolutely nobody.

 

 _“I know, right?!”_ Prompto exclaims proudly as he leans over the table to mop his napkin over Noct’s messy face. His arm totally lands in his breakfast, and he smears syrup from his waffles up the side of his forearm, from elbow to wrist, and the resulting ridiculousness of the situation makes Prompto burst out into silly laughter, his cheeks bright red in the late morning sun. “... aw, fuck, I’m such a mess, Noctis, look at us both.”

 

Noctis sputters again, and he manages to recover enough to lift his head and stare at Prompto, somewhat incredulous. “No offense, Prom, but you do realize celebrities go out of their way to avoid being recognized, right?”

 

There’s a moment where the gears work very hard in Prompto’s head. It’s a moment where all the pieces are there, lined up in a row, and they really _should_ be falling into place. It’s a nagging feeling at the back of Prompto’s mind, just the slightest itch that’s telling him he’s missing something.

 

But then the moment fades away, and it’s gone, just as Prompto’s grasping for it, and he goes back to being happily oblivious.

 

“I’ve got a _really_ good eye for detail, y’know, Noct,” Prompto says instead, bubbly and bright, and he leans forward across the little table - careful to avoid making a mess of his sticky breakfast again - to steal a kiss from his boyfriend. “Guaranteed I’d recognize some famous person if I saw them. We gotta keep an eye out, that would make it the _coolest_ vacation ever.”

 

“Prompto, you’re insane,” Noctis replies, and his voice is wavering a little, in a way that Prompto doesn’t quite understand, but if he looks back some day, he will absolutely be mortified at the irony of the situation. Noctis doesn’t say anything else though, only picks up his phone and types out a frantic text message. And, if Prompto would be so inclined to snoop, he’d realize that it’s absolutely a group text to Gladio and Ignis along the lines of ‘holy shit u guys cant even believe what prom just said to me im dying.’

 

(Gladio is in fact dying, and Ignis only shakes his head, flabbergasted, and entirely convinced that he will indeed win this bet, because this boy is _clueless,_ and he could probably literally wander across the red carpet before the realization hits him.)

 

\---

 

The idea’s still in Prompto’s mind about seeing someone cool and famous, but Noctis has a point, really, that most likely anyone famous is probably trying to avoid being seen. In any case, he’s having enough fun just hanging out with his boyfriend. Once they’re both properly dressed - Prompto lathered up in copious amounts of sunscreen because he burns really goddamn easily, unfortunately - Noctis spends a great deal of time in one of the little boutiques in the resort lobby.

 

“You look like a dumbass, Noctis,” Prompto feels the need to point out, as his normally exceptionally stylish boyfriend throws on a wide-brimmed hat that looks like it belongs on some awful, middle aged dad, and not his incredibly hot boyfriend. It reminds Prompto, honestly, of the day they met, when Noctis came wandering into his stupid tea shop wearing the hooded sweatshirt and ballcap. Noct picks out a particularly awful pair of sunglasses, too (and they are way too fucking expensive for how hideous they are) and he absolutely ignores all of Prompto’s grumbles and protests as they make their way out.

 

And really, the grumbles and protests are half-assed ones, because Prompto absolutely picked out a matching pair of equally awful sunglasses. And okay, he won’t go as far as the horrible hat, but he maybe found a chocobo-print bandana that was absolutely irresistible, and it’s now wrapped jauntily around Prompto’s forehead. They’re a walking fashion disaster, in short. It’s probably why people keep throwing them very weird looks.

 

It doesn’t matter though, because Prompto’s having the time of his life on the beach. Despite any self-esteem issues he might have, he’s absolutely shed his shirt. Noctis didn’t quite give him a proper heads up on where they were going, for packing purposes, so he’s also sporting a brand new pair of flip-flops and some cute shorts with donuts on them. He absolutely picked out a pair with cartoon carrot prints, of all things, for Noctis, and his boyfriend indulged him. So here they are, walking along the beach in their matching food-themed shorts, ridiculous sunglasses, dumb headgear… yeah. This is the best romantic date.

 

“Noct,” Prompto whines as they set up in a nice spot, with towels stolen from their hotel room, “rub sunscreen on my back.” The curse of being freckled and fair skin is, of course, that Prompto’s pretty sure no amount of sunscreen will actually save him from being fried into a crisp. The sun is beating down, hot and heavy.

 

Noctis eyes his boyfriend, “you do realize you’re already completely covered, right? Adding on an extra layer isn’t exactly how that works.”

 

“I’m _not_ covered,” Prompto groans, making a show of arching his back and gesturing vaguely behind him. “Missed a spot. I can feel it burning already.”

 

Noct rolls his eyes in response, but he sits down on the towel and gestures in front of him. “Fine. Come here.”

 

Prompto sighs happily, and he makes a point of settling down close to Noct, leaning forward so that there’s a good amount of spine exposed for Noct’s talented hands to work the sunscreen into his skin. And okay, it feels good, being touched like this, out in the open, where there’s nothing to hide.

 

“You’re wearing like an entire bottle of this stuff, y’know,” Noct teases as he works it into his skin, but he’s laughing a little.

 

“You have no idea how easily I burn, dude,” Prompto grumps back, but when Noctis lifts his hands away, Prompto turns in his seat so that his legs are pressed to either side of Noct’s thighs and he’s straddling his boyfriend’s lap. “Your turn.”

 

“It’s fine,” Noct attempts to protest, “I don’t burn.”

 

“Dude, you have to at least cover the tattoos. They’ll fade,” Prompto insists, lathering up his hands with sunscreen. And okay, he mostly just wants an excuse to get his hands all over his boyfriend in public. It works though, and Noct relents, even though he complains about how bad the sunscreen smells all through it.

 

They’re walking along the shoreline, waves lapping at their feet as they go, when the first person approaches. It’s a young girl, maybe a little younger than them, and her eyes go all wide and she bounds up.

 

“Hey,” she says, a little shyly, and Prompto really should’ve noticed the nervous glance Noct shoots in his direction. “Are yo--”

 

“ _Ah, Noctis!”_  The words are cut off by a shrill shriek though, as the calm, gentle waves are displaced by a rough, violent one, one that eddies up fast and splashes up Prompto’s side and wets the entire front of his shorts. The force of it pulls one of his sandals off, too, and Prompto laughs and chases after it as it’s sucked back with the wave.

 

“Sorry,” Noct says quickly to the girl and makes his retreat, helping Prompto to recover his offending shoe, and laughing about the fact that he’s already managed to get completely soaked.

 

“You wanna play?” Noctis asks a little later, when they’ve walked the entire shoreline on one end, and looped back to the main area of the beach. He’s gesturing at a bunch of beach volleyballs nets that have been set up. There’s an empty court area, and a few balls set off to the side.

 

Prompto groans, “you’ve seen how coordinated I am, right? I do _not_ do sports, Noct.”

 

“You run,” Noctis points out, “that’s half a sport.”

 

“Running isn’ t a sport at all,” Prompto tries to protest, but he’s grinning, and let’s be honest, he’ll agree to pretty much anything his boyfriend suggests. More than that, he’ll try anything at least once. Even if he’s pretty sure he’s going to get hit in the face. “Whatever. Go easy on me.”

 

Prompto knows Noct tends to have a lazy acclimation. His boyfriend works out- and that much is apparent by Noct’s physique, though he’s also mentioned training regiments with Gladio - but his primarily life goal seems to be finding an excuse to sleep as much as humanly possible. And with the way Noct eats, he’s obviously blessed with good genes.

 

Playing this dumb game with Noct though, it’s becoming apparent to Prompto that his boyfriend is actually _good_ at this whole sports thing. He’s winning horrendously, even though they’re just knocking the volleyball back and forth.

 

“Hey,” a group of young guys sidle up to their side of the court, “mind if we join? We can play a couple of real games.”

 

“Sure,” Noct shrugs, and that’s how they find themselves in a very fierce competition with a couple of (assuredly) locals. Noctis kicks their asses, and Prompto’s not sure how he feels about that. On the one hand, he gets to root for his boyfriend. He gets to know that his boyfriend is actually very good at the sporting thing, and it’s a new side of Noctis that Prompto’s just seeing. Any new thing he can learn, that’s a good thing. It can’t _possibly_ be anything bad.

 

“So,” one of the guys is saying as they’re lazily serving the ball back and forth. “The tattoo. On your shoulder.”

 

Noctis tenses a little. Prompto doesn’t notice, because he’s warily got an eye on both the ball, and the guy he’s assuming is hitting on his boyfriend. (For the record: the guy is straight. Prompto’s gaydar is notoriously bad. He’s accidentally hit on a large number of very disinterested guys in the past.)

 

“I know that tatt. You’re No--”

 

The ball’s in Prompto’s direction. He’s absolutely not paying attention, because that guy’s still talking to Noct, even though he’s not really registering what they’re talking about, and it’s hot, and _oh,_ someone’s walking a really cute dog ,and --

 

_Smack!_

 

Prompto falls backwards, his sunglasses go tumbling to the sandy ground, and he groans and presses a hand over his face. There’s a faint trickle of blood from where the ball connected with his nose, too. Prompto doesn’t think it’s broken, the pain is quickly subsiding into a dull throb, but his cheeks are flushed with embarrassment as he sits back up.

 

“Prom, are you okay?!”

 

On the bright side, the guy sorta-flirting with Noctis (again: he wasn’t) has been pushed aside as Noctis kneels down in front of Prompto, concern bright in his eyes as he gently lifts a hand to Prompto’s chin and tips his head up to get a good look at the battle wound.

 

“Told you I’m terrible at sports,” Prompto manages though, with a shaky little smile, and Noct laughs and gets an arm around him.

 

“Let’a get you cleaned up and get some lunch, huh?”

 

\---

 

They opt for a quick lunch from one of the little shopfronts next to the main pier. Prompto is good and orders a salad, but it all goes to hell as they pass a little ice cream shop on their way back down to the water. He’s eyeing it desperately, and it doesn’t go unnoticed from Noctis.

 

“Get the damn ice cream,” Noct says, swinging their twined hands and nudging their hips together. “We’re on vacation.”

 

“My tummy is not on vacation,” Prompto points out, with a vaguely critical look down at his stomach. He’ll always have that little extra layer of fat and skin, and even though there’s the faintest hint of baby abs underneath, he’s pretty sure that he’s just the type of person who would have to follow macros religiously, every single goddamn day, in order to actually maintain the look Noct’s got going for him naturally. Prompto just isn’t that dedicated.

 

“Your dummy is hot, you know that right?” Noctis leans in, lips brushing over Prompto’s ear, and it’s such an overly endearing thing, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear as they walk hand-in-hand. Prompto’s a sucker for this shit. “I’ll show you just how much I like it when we get back to the room, later…”

 

“Okay, fine, I want the damn ice cream,” Prompto laughs in response, though he’s definitely interested in the _later_ bit, too. With a little luck, he’ll get a repeat performance of yesterday, soon enough.

 

They make their way back down to the beach afterwards, Prompto licking at a large strawberry waffle cone as they walk. Noct’s indulging in some vanilla and chocolate swirled thing, and he keeps offering Prompto bites of his ice cream. They’re going to be a sticky mess, because the sun’s already melting the cold treat, and Prompto can’t quite eat it fast enough to keep up with the ice cream running down the side of his cone and over his fingers. Oh well, what else are beach days for?

 

They’re exploring the opposite side of the shore, the one that’s further down, more rugged, and a lot more isolated. The rockier terrain is more interesting than the straight up planes of white sand though, because little pools of water get trapped with the moving tide, and it creates little pools with crabs and anemones and other sea creatures. Prompto’s got his eyes downcast as he dutifully licks at his ice cream, because he’s looking for shells.

 

“I gotta find the perfect one,” he’s telling Noctis, a little idly, a bit wistful and far-off, “my uncle and I used to collect them.” It’s a bit embarrassing, really, and it makes Prompto’s cheeks flush even brighter.

 

If it’s silly, Noct doesn’t comment on it - Prompto’s grateful for that - but he knocks their shoulders together and says, “want some help then?”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto smiles, “if you don’t mind.”

 

There are a lot of tiny little shells mixed up with the pebbles and coarser sand that lines the tidal pools or clusters around jutting rocks. Noctis pauses to pick up a few here and there, the salt and dirt clinging to his fingers as he carefully offers up his findings to Prompto.

 

“Y’know, I think I’m gonna keep this one for myself,” Prompto admits, carefully reaching for a small, white shell with a delicate spiral. “To remember our beach trip.”

 

Noct’s cheeks are definitely flushing red, and he pointedly looks away in a strange moment of shyness. “I’m glad we drove down here.”

 

Prompto thinks maybe he should stop, that he should make Noctis take off his silly sunglasses so he can get a good look at him. Maybe he should confess the feelings that he thinks are swelling up and growing in his belly and his heart. But as he lifts his head up from the shoreline, from the expanse of sand and rock underneath him, his heart skips for a very different reason. They’re at the edge of the beach proper. Behind them is a jutting rocky cliff surface, topped with palm trees and brush. In front of them on one side is a jagged line of rough rocks, slippery with ocean spray from the waves. And directly in front, there are a few caves cut out of the rock from years of being rubbed down by the tide.

 

“C’mon, Noct,” Prompto says instead, pocketing his little shell and reaching for Noctis’s hand with his free one - the one that isn’t still holding the half-eaten ice cream - to drag him forward into the little cave. “Let’s go exploring.”

 

“You do know caves are _really_ creepy, right?” Noctis murmurs as he’s pulled in, but he’s mostly joking. Mostly.

 

There’s a big wave of nostalgia smacking Prompto right in the chest as they walk through the cave. It’s wide and open in the front, and it stretches back into a dark corner at the very end, with a narrower side-exit, one that requires them both to duck down, to access the other side of the cliff face, into a little area of rocky beach and tidal pools that’s otherwise inaccessible.

 

“My uncle took me here once,” Prompto says, after a moment’s silence, as they carefully pick their way across the rocks, the ocean churning just a few feet away, spraying foam into the air as it breaks. “When I was a little kid. I… didn’t get to go away much. Cuz I didn’t have parents. But Uncle Cor brought me down here once.”

 

Noctis is looking at him, and Prompto can feel his gaze, heavy and intense, even through the ridiculous shades they’re both wearing. The air feels heavy around them, humid and thick with moisture from their proximity to the ocean, and even though it’s a sunny day, Prompto shivers.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Noctis says finally, quietly, and he gives Prompto’s hand an extra squeeze. “Don’t have to, of course.”

 

Prompto manages a quiet little laugh, and he turns a bit, shuffles so that he’s standing in front of Noctis, carefully leaning back against his chest. He’s still got his ice cream, and he’s licking at it thoughtfully. “There’s not a whole lot to say. We used to pretend that we were explorers, and the shells were treasure.” The memory’s still burning bright and vivid in Prompto’s mind, even after all these years, and it makes his eyes a little wet around the corners. “Uncle Cor, he… had his issues, y’know? He tried to get custody of me, when my parents died, but… some days he just couldn’t keep it together. They said he was unfit.”

 

Noctis frowns. He’s finished with his ice cream, and he leans forward, curls both arms around Prompto’s waist, breath hot against his neck as he speaks. “... you don’t talk about this often, huh?”

 

Prompto flushes, and he stares out at the ocean, but he’s leaning back into Noct’s embrace, and the harsh squeeze to his heart is loosening a little, those _other_ feelings, the ones of being safe, warm, _cared for,_ they’re creeping back in. It’s hard, yeah, but with Noctis at his side? He can do anything.

 

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” Prompto admits with a shaky little laugh. Noctis tenses behind him, just for a moment, and maybe it’s Prompto’s imagination, but it seems like that confession takes him by surprise.

 

“I should tell you something,” Noctis replies, slowly and carefully, and the way he says it, Prompto’s mildly concerned. His stomach does a flip. He tips his head back, and lifts his hand to push his sunglasses up so he can get a better look at Noctis. But, just at that moment, Prompto slips on a loose, wet rock, and he wobbles, his foot sliding forward awkwardly. If Noctis wasn’t holding him up, he’d probably topple face-first into the ocean.

  
As it stands though, Prompto’s half-eaten mess of an ice cream cone is the casualty of this particular scene, and it slips from his hand, toppling to the ground and splashing wet, sticky mess all over the rocks.

 

“ _No!”_ Prompto groans out, the word more a pathetic little whimper than anything else. It’s just ice cream, yeah, but it’s _his_ ice cream, and he wasn’t done eating it, damnit. “Aw, it was really good, Noct…”

 

“Food for the seagulls now, I guess,” Noctis can’t help it though - he laughs a little, breath warm against Prompto’s neck. And the laughter is contagious, because the ridiculousness of the entire situation hits Prompto. The fact that he’s here, at a fancy resort, with his absolutely _gorgeous_ boyfriend, enjoying a beautiful day on the beach, and yet he’s getting all bent out of shape over dropped ice cream. Talk about first world problems. When did Prompto’s life change from being unable to pay rent into the absolute _definition_ of first world problems?

 

“What were you saying?” Prompto manages, after the laughter dies down, and he lifts his hand to his face, pushing his sunglasses up again to wipe at the corner of his eyes.

 

“Oh. It was nothing,” Noctis says. “Hey, look,” and before Prompto can push the subject (it had seemed important, right?), Noct’s pulling away, and bending down to pluck something out of the sand near their feet. He examines the object and then holds it out to Prompto - it’s a perfectly round, white sand dollar, the floral-pattern on the top defined and delicate.

 

“That shell’s perfect,” Prompto smiles, and it’s all forgotten.

 

\---

 

It’s pretty much a perfect day in general. Absolute, oblivious perfection. They’re heading back to their room, finally, and even though Prompto’s worn nearly the entire bottle of sunscreen, he can feel the sun bearing down on the back of his neck. He’s hot and sleepy and even though they’ve been tossing dinner ideas back and forth the entire walk, Prompto’s already pretty much sold on the idea of ordering room service and crawling into bed. Maybe sitting in their in-room jacuzzi tub for a while, too, while Noctis pampers him. Yeah, that’d be perfect.

 

They’re being followed by a guy with a camera and a giant telescopic lens, but Prompto’s more concerned with getting one foot in front of the other. Noct keeps glancing over his shoulder, more than a little irritated, but Prompto’s just assuming that there’s sand stuck in his boyfriend’s sandals. Again. Noctis apparently doesn’t like sand, and as the day’s gone on, he’s commented on that more than once.

 

Prompto glances over his shoulder at one point. “That guy behind us has a really nice camera,” he comments idly, and Noctis almost trips over his own two feet. “Wonder what he’s taking a picture of?” Noct doesn’t respond, but Prompto doesn’t care too much, cuz his mind is wandering again already.

 

They’re standing on the pier outside their hotel, taking in the first sights of the sunset, when an excited looking guy approaches. Prompto pays half-attention, but there’s a really cool pelican perched on a buoy out in the ocean and he’s trying to get a good glimpse of it.

 

“... really liked you in that last role…” excited looking guy is saying.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis sounds bored, somewhat miserable, “on a bit of a work break for now…” and that catches his attention. Prompto perks up a little at the mention of Noctis, and _work,_ and he turns to ask what the hell Noct’s talking about with this guy, but the sudden momentum makes him slip and--

 

“Holy shit, _Prompto_ , are you okay?!”

 

Prompto’s coughing and sputtering as he topples over the side of the pier, and he’s okay, really, just caught off guard and very very _wet_ and incredibly embarrassed as he breaks the surface. It’s a damn good thing he left his phone and his camera back at the hotel for the day, honestly, because that would just be his luck, ruining the brand new phone Noct’s just bought him.

 

“I think I really did lose my sandal that time…” Prompto manages a weak, pathetic laugh as Noct bends over the side of the pier and helps hoist him out of the water. Noct’s laughing though, and the excited guy snaps a few photos of them (without Prompto properly assessing that particular fact) before scurrying off.

 

“C’mon,” Noctis throws an arm over Prompto’s shoulder once he helps him to his feet again, “let’s get back to the room.”

 

“I want a hot bath,” Prompto agrees, limping down the boardwalk - one of his sandals is definitely gone forever to the depths of the ocean - and leaning against Noctis. “And room service.”

 

“Whatever you want,” Noctis rolls his eyes, and he definitely not-so-discreetly lifts his other hand, the one that isn’t wrapped around his boyfriend, and flips off the paparazzi who’s photographing every pathetic, painful moment. It’s actually one of the few moments where Prompto’s obliviousness is doing him a whole world of good, because he’d probably be an anxious mess if he knew that his facefirst plunge into the ocean is probably going to be trending on social media very soon: _Noctis Caelum’s clumsy new boyfriend is making waves!_

 

“You know what sucks though,” Prompto says, finally, as they make it safely back to their room, behind closed doors and away from the world’s prying eyes.

 

“What?” Noct wastes no time in running a nice hot bath for him, as Prompto strips out of his soaked swim shorts.

 

“Didn’t see a single celebrity. I really was looking hard, too, Noctis.”

 

Prompto pays no attention to the loud groan and the facepalm he gets in response. He’s about to throw his wet shorts over the side of the bathroom door to dry off, when he remembers the shells and quickly removes them, placing them on the bathroom counter for safe keeping. And he can’t help but smile as he looks them over: the little white one that symbolizes his little vacation with the boyfriend he’s falling madly in love with, and the sand dollar to give to his uncle.

 

Maybe he’ll call him when he gets back home. Only time will tell.

 

\---

 

“This has been a good day, huh, Prompto?”

 

Uncle Cor’s voice is really deep, and always sounds a little rough around the edges. It’s a voice that can bark out a command and people will _listen._ He’s yelled at people before, but never Prompto. It’s silly, but even though Prompto knows other people are terrified of his uncle, he doesn’t feel safer anywhere else.

 

“A perfect day, Uncle Cor,” Prompto agrees in a singsong voice. He’s got a little bucket full of seashells dangling from one hand. His other hand is curled around his uncle’s, as they make their way down the beach.

 

He’s never been on vacation before. Prompto lives with a nice enough couple, but they don’t have a lot of time for him, and they’ve got two other kids to watch, too. They give him food and clothes, and some days they ask him how school went, but other than that, Prompto’s mostly on his own. He likes to read comics and fiddle with an old Polaroid camera his uncle’s given him, but other than that… well, he’s kinda lonely. So this is nice.

 

Prompto’s always been a quiet kid, but when it’s him and his uncle, he feels like he can open up about anything. They’ve spent the entire day combing the beach, pretending to be explorers excavating old ruins, ancient caves, and seeking out fantastic treasure. Prompto wishes it was real treasure - if they could just find some riches, Uncle Cor could sell it and they’d be able to afford a real house, right?

 

The nice lady from social services tells Prompto he can’t live with his uncle because Uncle Cor only has a small, one-bedroom flat. He’s got a government stipend from after the war, but, as the nice lady puts it, _Uncle Cor’s not feeling well some days._ He’s just not capable of taking care of a kid like Prompto.

 

Prompto doesn’t really understand, because he feels safest with his Uncle, and he doesn’t quite know what else he really needs in life.

 

“Hey, Uncle Cor, can I live with you again when we get back? That’d make the day _really_ perfect,” Prompto says quietly, as they make their way back to where his uncle’s dingy old pickup truck is parked in the lot by the main stretch of beach.

 

His uncle hesitates, and for a moment Prompto thinks maybe he’ll get yelled at.

 

“Some day, Prompto,” Uncle Cor says instead, a voice that’s gruffer than usual, and carries the quality of gravel, something so rough and harsh that it hurts Prompto’s ears, and his heart. “I love you more than anything else, y’know that, right, kid? It’s not you.”

 

“I know,” Prompto says quietly as his uncle hoists him up into the passenger seat. It’s the war, that’s what Uncle Cor tells him. It took something away from him, and no amount of seashells plucked off the beach can fix that, or make it better.

 

\---

 

Prompto places the shells on the little table next to their massive king-sized bed before he goes to sleep.

 

“This is a perfect day, Noct,” he mumbles, snuggling into his boyfriend’s chest. “Thanks. You’re perfect, y’know?”

 

Noctis feels horribly guilty, but Prompto doesn’t know that, because his eyes are fluttering shut already, and he’s drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quietly whispering, i'm not sorry... 
> 
> c'mon it couldn't be mindless fluff forever, right? RIGHT? ok so maybe that's a low blow. i promise it's MOSTLY HAPPY...... i was delivering on my promise to numi for cor+prom feels SO GET MAD AT HER, she's the one throwing ideas at me, i just make them into words on the screen.
> 
> anyway my internet was down for 2 days and everyone's outta town so i busted a whole lot of writing out. i'm sorry this monster keeps getting longer, i cannot be contained, i'm the worst. yes.
> 
> thank you for reading, as always. how the hell did this break 600 kudos? yall are fab. tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest , i'm debating changing my ao3 username as well to match, so don't be surprised if that changes~ 
> 
> back to smut and fluff next chapter k? k.


	7. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct picks up Prompto and takes him back to his apartment. It'd be a shame, though, if someone showed up to steal their car back...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 7 Art](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DD17aWkW0AENzSd.jpg) ! Art is by Numi, words on the screen by me~

Life, unfortunately, returns to normal when they return from Galdin Quay. Well. Mostly normal. Maybe Prompto returns with several bags of clothing that Noct’s bought him from some of the trendy boutiques that line the waterfront. He tried to insist he doesn’t need them, but okay, Prompto shops primarily at thrift stores, and his wardrobe’s pretty run-down. He doesn’t have a whole lot of spending money for fun stuff, after all.

 

Now that he’s home, Prompto’s sorting through his old clothes, finally tossing away some of the more ragged things. Jeans with holes worn through them (and not stylish ones), grungy old shirts… Prompto realizes, part-way through, with a frown, that his favourite old t-shirt is missing. It’s worn thin, but it’s soft and comfortable. Sucks. He’ll have to tear apart his room looking for it one of these days.

 

Cindy wanders over and leans in the door frame, because Prompto’s left his bedroom door open. “So, hun, how’s paradise with Mr. Wonderful?”

 

“It was a really nice trip,” Prompto replies happily. He’s sorted all the clothes to get rid of into a big pile, and he’s starting to unload the shopping bags he’s brought home. It catches Cindy’s attention, and she wanders in, hips swaying, eyes honed in on the prize.

 

“Lemme see,” Cindy reaches for the fancy new sweatshirt Prompto’s currently throwing onto a clothes hanger. It’s a simple black one, with red trim and a buckle across the front, but it’s soft and comfortable and it makes Prompto feel safe. Like he’s in Noct’s arms or something cliché and dumb.

 

“Shit, Prompto, that boy’s buyin’ you Gucci?” Cindy whistles loudly and shoves the article back into his hands, like she’s scared to touch it. “He must really have it bad for ya.”

 

Prompto spends the next fifteen minutes googling the various brand names on the tags of the clothing that – naturally – doesn’t have prices listed. He’s very upset when he realizes that said sweater he likes so much costs almost as much as he makes in an entire month. Hell, if it’s a slow month and he doesn’t have as many shifts, more.

 

“Hey, Noct,” Prompto tries to say casually as he dials Noct’s number. Noctis answers on the first ring. Prompto’s pretty sure Noctis never answers on the first ring, and his heart’s thumping. “I. Uh. Just have to ask something really weird. Indulge me, okay?” There’s a confused pause, and before Noctis can question it, Prompto blurts out, “this isn’t a sex-for-money thing, is it? Like… I’m not your idea of a fancy escort, right?!”

 

Another stunned silence.

 

“I—what? Prompto, babe, no.” Noct says, a bit incredulously, “the hell are you asking that for?”

 

Prompto should ask where the hell Noct’s getting all his apparent money from, if he’s dropping ten grand (easily) on some new clothes for him, but he realizes he’s being absolutely stupid, and he laughs a little instead, shaking his head. “Just had to make sure, fuck, sorry Noct…”

 

\---

 

A few weeks go by. Prompto wishes he had more time with Noctis. He’s starting to realize just how much better his day is when he wakes up curled up in his boyfriend’s arms. Some nights, Noct sleeps over, but he’s got some vague project starting up soon, and it’s requiring a lot of his time and energy. Noctis always makes sure to text back whenever Prompto sends him a message, but there are a few stretches of several days in a row where they just don’t have time to see each other. It’s natural, it happens, but it’s slowly driving Prompto insane.

 

Or, well, it would be driving him insane, if it wasn’t for the fact that Prompto’s busy, too. He’s got a big photography assignment coming up soon for school. Two of their part-time staffers quit without notice, too, so now Prompto’s stuck picking up a bunch of extra shifts to compensate. And it’s not that he minds – in the past, he’d maybe be screaming about the extra money – but Prompto’s actually managed to scrape together a bit of meager savings, now that Noctis has a tendency to spoil him some. He’s come home to a few surprise grocery deliveries that Noct’s ordered for him, and it makes Prompto smile, all dreamy-like and happy, sure-signs that his boyfriend’s thinking of him.

 

And, okay, so maybe Prompto’s worked up the energy to drive Noct’s car around some, too, and that helps. He sucks it up on a day when it’s raining hard – a rare occurrence for the time of year – and his own car is still stubbornly refusing to start. It’s a class that he can’t miss, and he’s got a work shift right afterward, and there’s no way his stuff isn’t getting soaked. So he sighs, stomach clenching in a tight knot, and he grabs the keys, finally, and climbs into the car.

 

Maybe Noct’s car drives like a dream. Maybe Prompto’s a little bit in love with Noct’s car now, too.

 

Damnit.

 

So, one day, Prompto’s just getting into Noct’s car after a long shift at the tea shop when his phone rings (he knows it’s Noct without checking, too, because Prompto’s absolutely given his boyfriend a cheesy custom ringtone). Prompto answers immediately, and his day is instantly improved when he hears Noct’s voice.

 

“Hey,” Prompto balances the phone between his shoulder and his ear, “what’s up?”

 

“Finishing work,” Noct says. He sounds tired. Exhausted, even. “You?”

 

“Finishing work,” Prompto parrots back. He’s pretty sure he sounds equally exhausted.

 

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Noctis sounds like he’s walking or something. He’s a bit breathless, and there’s a bit of chaos in the background, with some clutter and yelling.

 

Prompto grins widely at nobody in particular as he sinks back into the leather seat of Noct’s nice fancy car. “Depends. What are your plans?”

 

“In a perfect world, you,” Noctis laughs a little, and the sound of Noct’s laughter is something that Prompto absolutely can’t get enough of. It makes him swoon like a lovesick teenager, and he sighs and he can’t even be upset that there’s definitely a ‘but’ coming. “Ignis needs me for something. Thinking maybe I could stop by tomorrow, though?”

 

Tomorrow. Prompto wracks his brain, “well, I have this photography project I gotta do… I need a good picture of some cityscapes, so I was gonna head into the city and see if I can get some good views… but I mean, you could come along if you want…?” he’s more than a little hopeful.

 

There’s a pause, and then, “y’know. My place has a decent view of the city. You want to come by? Let me juggle my schedule around some… might be able to convince Iggy to let me off. The sunset looks good through my bedroom window.”

 

Noct’s bedroom window. As if Prompto lives in a world where he’d ever turn down that fucking invitation.

 

“Sounds good,” he agrees, “I’ll go home and change.”

 

“Cool. I’ll text you the details,” Noctis agrees, “and I’ll come by and get you. Directions are kind of a bitch, and you need a code to park, so it’s easier if I just swing by…”

 

Prompto doesn’t really hear that part though, because Noctis is inviting him over for the first time. It’s another milestone in their relationship, and maybe it’s dumb, to be tracking every little thing this way, but for Prompto, it’s important. It’s everything.

 

\----

 

True to his word, Noctis shows up shortly after dinner. He’s driving a car that Prompto doesn’t recognize, and he looks very satisfied to be driving it. It’s a convertible, with the polished, regal look of an old classic car, but it’s in impeccable condition.

 

“Nice ride,” Prompto says as he hops over the side. He’s got a backpack slung over his shoulder, with a spare change of clothes and his laptop, and his camera bag with all his gear.

 

“My dad’s car,” Noctis says, and there’s a hint of pride as he wastes no time in pulling out of Prompto’s apartment building parking lot.

 

“The one you keep talking about?” Prompto tips his head, rather interested. It’s a nice car, yeah, but it’s not as nice as the Maserati, or even the other car he’s seen Noctis drive around. Maybe there’s sentimental value, or just the fact that Noct’s father seems to be rather attached to this particular vehicle. Prompto gets the feeling, somehow, that Noctis isn’t the type of person who hears the word ‘no’ very often. “How’d you manage to swing that?”

 

Noctis grins a particularly evil smile. “I may have borrowed it without expressly asking permission.”

 

“Bet that’s gonna come back to bite you in the ass,” Prompto rolls his eyes, but it’s all teasing and smiles. Noct laughs, and one hand’s on the wheel, the other hand slipping down to settle warm on Prompto’s thigh. He pulls the car onto the freeway and the wind is warm and whipping through Prompto’s hair, and it’s hard to really care about anything else, when it’s just him and Noctis.

 

Prompto’s not really sure what he’s expecting. Noctis has a very nice place in the heart of downtown. It’s a fancy high-rise building, with its own private gated underground carpark. Really, given the ridiculous trend of Noctis throwing lots of money at everything in life, Prompto figures it’s probably exactly what he should’ve expected. It’s still hard to fathom the extent of all this, though. Noct’s lavish lifestyle intimidates the hell out of Prompto, if he’s being honest. If it was anyone else, he might’ve already been completely overwhelmed by just the little bits and pieces he’s seen.

 

But. Well. It’s _Noctis._

Prompto tries not to stare as they step into Noct’s actual apartment. It’s on the top floor, and a fancy elevator for that specific floor, one that requires a key to operate, takes them there. Prompto’s also sure that the place is bigger than most people’s houses.

 

“I don’t wanna know how much a place like this costs, do I?” Prompto manages to say as he gets the grand tour. Noct’s living room is bigger than Prompto’s entire apartment. He has black, leather furniture, a giant curved LED television on the wall, surround sound, a fucking _pool table…_ and there’s some clutter strewn across the coffee table and on various surfaces, an old pizza box, but honestly, the little bits and pieces of Noctis scattered around make it feel slightly more normal.

 

“Probably not,” Noctis laughs, but he sounds properly embarrassed by it all, scratching at the back of his head. He shows off the kitchen (which is easily the cleanest place in the whole apartment, clearly mostly unused), the bathroom, an office that looks really boring, a spare bedroom’s in absolute disarray (“that’s just where I store a bunch of my junk, don’t worry about it”) and finally, they get to Noct’s bedroom.

 

This is obviously the room where Noctis spends most of his time. His bed’s unmade, a mess of blankets and tangled sheets. Noct’s got his computer on still, and there’s a playlist still playing on it, though the music is turned low. He has some game or another running, but it’s on the disconnected screen, like he suddenly realized he’s running late and jumped up without bothering to shut down the application.

 

“So, this is the view I was talking about,” Noct is saying, as he steps to the large windows and draws open the heavy black curtains. Prompto’s head spins, and his eyes are probably as wide as saucers as he gets a good look at the world outside.

 

It’s the top floor so they’re _high,_ and it’s probably a good thing Prompto isn’t scared of heights. The windows run almost the entire length of one wall, and Noct really does have the perfect view of the city. There’s a cluster of tall buildings to the left – the financial district of town – and off in the horizon, there’s a perfect view of the ocean, glinting blue in the late evening sun. The windows face to the west, and Noct wasn’t lying: it will offer up a perfect sunset shot.

 

“Why the hell do you wanna spend time at my crummy apartment again?!” Prompto breathes out, a hand pressing against the window as he tips his head and takes in the view.

 

Noct’s breath is hot against his ear and he laughs, curling an arm around Prompto from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. “This doesn’t really feel like home. Your place does.”

 

“Funny,” Prompto smiles, and his heart does a flip as he leans back into Noct’s embrace, “was thinking the exact same thing about your place just now.” They’re pressed close enough that when Noctis makes a quiet, happy sound, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, Prompto feels it vibrating back against him. Noct’s head tips to the side, kissing into cheek, and it’s all soft pressure, the faintest bit of heat.

 

Maybe they’ve found a home in each other. It’s the cheesiest, dumbest, most ridiculous romantic nonsense Prompto’s ever thought. But it feels right.

 

“Gotta hang around till the sun goes down to take a few shots, if that’s okay,” Prompto mumbles after a few long moments of silence. It’s a comfortable silence though, one that he thinks he could easily drown in, if he let it. But as much as Prompto’s enjoying the moment, he’s carefully shifting, turning around in Noct’s embrace, an arm lifting to wrap around his boyfriend’s neck.

 

“Stay as long as you want,” Noctis replies, casually, even as he dips down and steals a kiss, quick and warm, from Prompto’s lips. The words make Prompto’s heart do a flip. Again. He doesn’t think that particular response is ever going to fade away.

 

“Keep saying that and you’ll end up with a roommate,” Prompto laughs, and he’s mostly joking – even if his mind is absolutely going into overdrive, his imagination working out so many situations where his stuff is mingled with Noct’s all through the apartment, where Prompto tries his luck at cooking dinner for them, as they sit on that fancy leather couch and watch television. It’s a good mental image. Prompto’s taken aback by just how badly he _wants_ this.

 

“You know,” Noct’s voice is low, his eyes alight with the evening sun that’s washing in through the windows, “we haven’t broken in my bed yet.”

 

Prompto grins, and he pushes Noctis back, takes a step forward, easing them towards Noct’s very nice, expensive-looking king sized bed. “Guess we gotta fix that, huh?” It’s been _days_ since they’ve found time to roll around in bed together, and Prompto’s very well aware of that. He can already feel his body twitching to life, the first heavy thrills of arousal pulsing in his belly.

 

He only stops pressing them forward when the back of Noct’s legs hit the edge of the bed. Prompto’s feeling brave, fully embracing that sexual confidence that tends to take over in these situations. Even if he’s still not entirely convinced he looks good – especially not today, with his hair mussed and unstyled, his eyes dark-rimmed from exhaustion, no time for any real makeup, only a quick swipe of eyeliner and some tinted moisturizer – Noct’s already got a prominent bulge in Prompto’s pants. _Noctis_ thinks he’s hot, and that’s all the fucking encouragement that Prompto ever really needs.

 

And Noct’s sinking back on the edge of the bed, letting Prompto crawl eagerly into his lap and throw his arms eagerly over his shoulders. Their foreheads are pressing, and up close, Prompto’s always left a bit breathless with how bright Noct’s eyes are, how _intense,_ piercing right through. His features are almost delicate up close, even though Prompto knows Noct’s sure as hell not delicate. There’s so many layers to him, though, and even though Noct’s opening up, slowly but surely, Prompto feels like not very many people get to see his boyfriend this way.

 

He almost gets lost in his head, in the thoughts, but Noct’s reaching between them, and he rubs his palm lazily over Prompto’s half-hard cock, and it makes him sigh, draws him back to the real world with a jolt. And normally, Prompto’s more than happy to grab the lube, to rise onto his knees and to put on a damn good show, twisting his fingers up inside until he’s open and ready for Noctis.

 

Today though, Prompto’s feeling a little different, bold in a different sort of way. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s surrounded by Noct, in his room, with the scent of his cologne heavy in the air, the sheets wrinkled and a mess from where his limbs were tangled the night before. Whatever it is, it has Prompto rising up, a hand shifting from Noct’s neck to his chest, pushing him back on the bed.

 

Noctis falls back easily, and there’s a look in his eyes that’s something of a mixture between amusement and arousal. By now, it’s no secret to Prompto that Noct likes it when he takes control in the bedroom. They switch that part up easily enough, and they’ve got a nice little back-and-forth running between them.

 

“Noct,” Prompto says lazily, crawling up between Noct’s spread thighs and working his fingers expertly at his boyfriend’s pants, “how do you always manage to look so good? It’s really _not fair,_ ” and he punctuates the words with a brush of his fingers over Noct’s exposed cock as he works his pants and underwear down his thighs.

 

It really isn’t fair. Prompto’s still fully clothed, and Noct’s shirt is pushed halfway up his belly, his pants bunched down his legs, and he looks _so_ damn good it’s stupid. All toned muscle, relaxed back against the bed, abs trembling just ever so slightly as Prompto drags his fingers appreciatively down the shaft of Noct’s cock, tracing up the curve of pelvis and over hipbones and across his belly.

 

“Honestly,” Noct laughs a little, but he draws himself up, sits up to curl his fingers into the hem of Prompto’s shirt and tug it over his head, “probably mostly luck and good genes. I eat like shit.”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto can’t help but laugh as well, shaking his head as he tosses his shirt aside, and leans in for another kiss, “you do. You’re an asshole, Noctis.”

 

Prompto’s well aware that _he_ isn’t blessed with good genes. Sitting like this, up on his knees and bent slightly, there’s a little curve of tummy poking over the waist of his pants. He’s stopped caring though, and right now, it’s easy to push it all aside, in favor of ducking his head down and dragging his lips hot and wet over the underside of Noct’s cock.

 

“Fuck,” Noctis groans out, as Prompto adjusts, and presses lazy, open-mouthed kisses all along the base, through the fine dusting of dark pubic hair. It’s really not fair, either, how Noctis always manages to smell _good,_ even through the hint of musk and tang of sweat.

 

“Noct,” Prompto breathes heavily against Noct’s cock, nuzzling it with his cheek and feeling a sticky line of precum smear over his skin, “can I…?” and he doesn’t finish the question with words, instead lifting a hand from where it’s settled on Noct’s thigh, dragging it back between his legs, behind his balls, to nudge between the cleft of his ass and run feather-light circles around his entrance.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Noctis says. Again. But he’s lifting his hips up into the touch, relaxing visibly, enough that Prompto takes the hint and draws back, fumbling blindly for the backpack he threw on the edge of the bed when he’d gotten into the bedroom. It’s not long before Prompto finds it, and tugs the lube out of the front pocket it’s tucked into. He scoots back in, and Prompto can’t even begin to deny just how fucking turned on he is, his cock pressing hard and needy against the front of his jeans. He has to stop for a moment, to unbutton his jeans and work them down his hips to free his own aching erection, and then he’s pressing back in, slick fingers working their way over Noct’s ass.

 

“You’ve done this before, right?” Prompto breathes out, but the way Noctis rocks his hips down and opens up for him, the first finger sinking into his ass easy and deep, down to the knuckle, is answer enough. Noctis moans out quickly, fingers gripping roughly at the satiny, expensive sheets, and Prompto has to reach down with his other hand to squeeze hard at the base of his cock to keep from potentially ruining this experience very early.

 

“Been a while,” Noctis groans out as he finds the words, but his thighs are trembling with the effort of parting them wider, and if it hurts, he doesn’t make any indication of it when a second finger works in to join the first. Prompto’s in awe, really. He’s done this before. Prompto’s pretty versatile, and even though he vastly prefers the feeling of being stuffed full of dick, he has a good idea of what he’s doing here. So there’s a curl of his fingers, some gentle probing, and when he feels Noct tense and tighten around him, Prompto grins wickedly and leans down to mouth over the tip of his boyfriend’s cock, satisfied with his findings.

  
“You’re gonna feel so fucking good,” Prompto promises, eager to draw more of those delicious reactions out of Noctis. He works a third finger in, and makes a great show of spreading them wide, stretching Noct’s rim until it’s swollen and wet with lube, and Noct’s panting heavily and leaking precum heavy against his belly and Prompto’s teasing tongue.

 

“Do you always talk this damn much, Prom?” Noctis groans out when Prompto wrenches his fingers free. His legs are spread invitingly, and he reaches for a pillow, arching up off the bed to settle the pillow beneath his hips, lifting his ass up enticingly and letting him lounge back on the bed.

 

Prompto can only laugh though, as he straightens and settles on his knees between Noct’s legs again. He curls his fingers around his aching cock and slicks himself up, “dude, I like, never shut up. You’re just realizing this now?” Noctis rolls his eyes and Prompto wants to tease about just how much of a damn princess his boyfriend is being, but instead he leans in, a hand settling on Noct’s hip, the other guiding his cock to nudge up and gently press inside.

 

All ideas of it being slow and gentle go totally out the window when Noct lifts a leg, drawing it up around Prompto’s waist and yanking his hips forward. There’s the sudden, tight heat of being pressed _inside,_ and it’s fucking good, drawing a ragged moan from Prompto’s lips and a satisfied sigh from Noct’s. It has to hurt some, because Noctis is _tight,_ and his features tense for just a glorious moment, but it’s such a good look for him that Prompto can’t even bring himself to feel guilty.

 

“Fuck me right, if you’re gonna fuck me,” Noctis sighs out as Prompto sinks in to the base, and Prompto shivers, nods and leans in, bracing a hand on Noct’s chest, starting to thrust forward in quick, shallow strokes. For all of Noct’s bitching and whining, there’s still some resistance, the tightness of Noct’s inner walls clenching and gripping his cock and creating the most _delicious_ kind of friction.

 

They’ve been dating a while, but Prompto’s still learning new things about Noctis every day. Sure, there’s the big _thing_ that he hasn’t figured out yet, but there are lots of smaller discoveries. Like right now, Prompto realizes something very nice: his boyfriend is goddamn flexible. Noct untangles his leg from Prompto’s waist, and he’s about to complain and tug him back in. But Noct’s lifting, his hips canting into a particularly nice stroke, and he pulls his legs back, draws his knees up to his chest, and the angle is _deeper,_ so fucking good, Noct’s ass spreading open more and giving Prompto the most _delicious_ view.

 

“Fuck,” Prompto gasps out, at the ridiculously slutty image of Noct’s greedy ass swallowing his cock, legs pulled back and knees touching his fucking chest. “Didn’t you know could do that, Noct.”

 

Noctis laughs – he actually manages to laugh, breathless and frantic as the sound is – and meets Prompto’s gaze with a look that’s a perfect mixture of smug, challenging, and goddamn outright _needy._ Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Prompto’s got no idea how he’s managed to end up right here. Noct’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, all taut muscle and perfect, flawless skin, hips lifted off the bed and he’s bucking and clenching down on Prompto’s cock. His face is flushed, his lips swollen and parted, eyes bright and searing.

 

“Ignis makes me do yoga sometimes,” Noctis admits, the words punctuated by a _deep_ moan as Prompto thrusts deep and finds his prostate. And then, fucking _hell,_ Noct shifts, lifts his hips higher and throws a leg over Prompto’s shoulder.

 

The banter ends then and there. It’s not even because Prompto particularly wants it to. But there’s something about having Noct like this that drives Prompto _insane._ He makes a sound that’s something needy, something harsh, almost like a growl, and Prompto’s tugging Noct’s other leg up over his shoulder to follow. He leans forward, the hand on Noct’s chest bracing there, nails digging in roughly, and the moan it pulls out of Noct’s fucking perfect lips is only encouragement.

 

“That’s it, _fuck,_ take it, Prom,” Noctis hisses, and Prompto leans in for a messy kiss, rough and needy, and that shuts him up. Noct’s fancy bed is shaking from the effort of it, from Prompto’s hips slamming into Noctis rough and fast and so goddamn _deep_ at this angle, it’s gotta hurt. Noct’s not complaining though, fingers tangled in the sheets, his heels digging into Prompto’s shoulder blades with every rough snap of hips that fucks into him.

 

Prompto’s barely holding on to his self-control. He’s so hard it hurts, his cock red and angry and dripping, but there’s a certain determination to making Noct come undone first that keeps him going. He’s pretty sure he’s dripping sweat as he buries his face into Noct’s neck, damn near bending him in half, but Noctis responds with a moan that’s utterly undignified and arches and gasps underneath.

 

The angle is deep and brutal, and Prompto can feel Noct’s belly clenching, his ass tighten and gripping harsh at his cock every time he pounds into his prostate. Noct’s cock is wet, trapped between their flexing bellies, and it doesn’t take any more than that. Prompto doesn’t need to touch him, because quite suddenly, Noct’s gasping out his name, and there’s a heavy spurt of heat between them as he comes untouched, from nothing more than the head of Prompto’s erection nudging into him just right, and the friction of their bellies working against the sensitive underside of his cock.

 

There’s a thought in Prompto’s mind, to work Noct through the orgasm, to draw him to the edge of overstimulation and draw _more_ pleasure, but it’s too much. As soon as he’s clenching around him, legs twitching and flexing and heels digging into Prompto’s shoulder blades hard enough to bruise, Prompto’s gone too. He keens out Noct’s name, the word muffled against sweat-slicked skin, and he’s coming hard, inside, wet and messy.

 

Prompto collapses against Noctis, and the world fades away for a long moment, as all he can do is mumble sweet nothings, lips working gentle kisses over every inch of skin he can find, blissful and euphoric and utterly high on the aftershocks.

 

“Prom,” Noctis mumbles after a long moment, his hips shifting and legs slipping down Prompto’s shoulders, “gotta move. Cramp.”

 

Prompto can’t help it – he laughs a little, and he shifts back, tugging Noct’s legs down from around him properly, making a mess of the sheets as he withdraws with a rush of warmth that spills over them. It’s hard to care though, because Noctis _really_ wears the blissfully fucked-out look incredibly well. And Prompto just feels _good._

 

“You gotta let me do that again,” Prompto says as he flops down at Noct’s side, throwing an arm over his stomach, and he doesn’t care that he’s spreading the come around, rubbing it into both of their skin. “That was _hot,_ Noct.”

 

“I don’t think I can walk,” Noctis grumbles out in response, but he’s shifting closer, resting the side of his head against Prompto’s, and Prompto’s eyes are already slipping shut, but he can hear the smile in the words. They can’t nap, or lounge around for too long, but… he’ll take these few moments.

 

\---

 

They’re making out on the kitchen counter later, when there’s a knock on the door.

 

Prompto’s gotten a few photos that he thinks will turn out okay. It’s apparently turned into a ‘popcorn and soda’ kinda night, but Noctis pounces him when he wanders into the kitchen to rummage through the cupboard, and, well, now Prompto’s on the counter with his legs around Noct’s waist and his shirt tossed to the side. Noct’s just working a hand in his pants and laying heavy kisses down his jaw.

 

“Ignore it,” Noctis mumbles, and goes back to pressing those delicious lips to sensitive skin. Prompto tips his head back and moans.

 

The knocking becomes more insistent.

 

“Maybe you should get that,” Prompto says, very reluctantly. He’s hard, and Noct’s fingers are curling around his cock, and it feels _so_ good, but the knocking is distracting, and—

 

“Noctis,” a male voice calls out from the other side of the door, “I’m coming in. I know the door code.”

 

“Goddamnit,” Noctis grumbles, pulling away. Prompto’s face is bright red and he’s adjusting his obvious erection in his pants, trying to make it look less prominent, when the door opens. Prompto makes a quiet, sheepish noise and frantically reaches for his shirt, and he’s clutching it to his chest (as if that hides exactly what he’s doing in _any way),_ glancing up at the man who’s standing in the open doorway.

 

“Ah, so you must be Noct’s new boyfriend.” The man looks tired, but distinguished, with grey hair that’s swept back from his forehead, and a neatly trimmed beard. He’s wearing a golf shirt and a pair of khakis, and Prompto gets the very distinct feeling that the man just came from a fucking golf course or something. Great.

 

“I uh,” Prompto stammers, flushing bright red as he pulls his shirt on over his head and hops down off the counter.

 

Noctis groans. He looks less than impressed. “Dad, this is Prompto. Prompto, my dad.”

 

Prompto lifts his hand in an awkward little wave. Noctis grumbles and makes his way over to the door. He’s definitely still limping, and Noct’s father’s eyes are following him as he hobbles over.

 

“Looks like you two have had a fun evening,” Noct’s father comments idly, and he’s definitely smirking. Prompto flushes even brighter, if that’s even possible. He wants to sink into the floor and disappear. Or maybe curl up and die. He’s not sure.

 

“What are you here for, dad?” Noctis grumbles, even though he gives his father a quick, one-armed hug when he reaches him, and gets a teasing slap across the back in return. For all of the grumbling and eye-rolling, Noctis seems to get along with his father. Prompto’s heard mentions here, and there, but… well, he wishes they’d met in better circumstances, but his interest is piqued.

 

“I believe you stole my car while I was gone,” Noct’s father says, and he slips out of his shoes and steps past Noctis, walking over to the couch. He sits down, and pats the spot next to him. “Prompto, is it? Sit, let’s chat while my _precious_ son remembers where he put the keys.”

 

Noctis groans and rolls his eyes, “don’t be intimidated by him, Prom. He’s actually pretty nice. Just likes to pretend he’s a big, tough jerk.”

 

“With the way Noctis talks, sometimes I wonder if he thinks I’m going senile,” Noct’s father replies airily, and Prompto realizes he has no choice in the matter. He takes a deep breath and tries to quell down the flare of anxiety that’s rising hot and heavy in his chest, and he delicately sits down on the edge of the couch.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Caelum,” Prompto starts to say, and he makes sure to keep his voice steady, even, hopefully dignified and respectful enough that he makes a good first impression.

 

Noct’s father shakes his head and smiles, and he reaches out to pat Prompto’s arm. The touch, coming from anyone else, might just make the anxiety surge even more. From Noct’s dad, though, it’s oddly comforting. It’s… fatherly, and protective, and it somehow puts Prompto at ease. “Call me Regis.”

 

“R-Right. Regis, then,” Prompto manages a smile. He finds that it comes a little easier.

 

Noct’s dad – Regis – leans back against the couch, and the look he offers Prompto is somewhat appraising, before it settles into something that seems almost resembling approval. “Tell me, Prompto. How’s my idiot son treating you?”

 

“Your son’s amazing,” Prompto, of course, tells himself he’s not going to make a complete fucking idiot of himself. So of course, the first opportunity he gets, he’s blurting out every little thing that comes to mind. “I mean, I have no idea how he pulls off all this stuff… or why he’s got so much money – I’m not a gold-digger, I swear though, I promise! – but I’m just… I’m _happy,_ sir, y’know?”

 

“It’s Regis, Prompto. Don’t call me sir. It makes me feel old,” and there’s a hint of dawning realization in Regis’s eyes, a certain level of concern with the fact that poor Prompto is completely oblivious, but Prompto’s feeling more mortified than anything else that he’s busting out confessions and blurting his absolute mess of feelings.

 

“Sorry, s- Regis,” Prompto blushes bright, and he rubs at the back of his head, mussing up his hair even more, though it’s already stuck in every different angle from their rough bout of sex earlier. “… I just. Your son is great. He’s… I don’t wanna mess this up.”

 

“Trust me,” Regis shakes his head, still regarding Prompto with that strange look, the one that is very clearly, to everyone else, screaming _my idiot son is keeping his entire life a secret from his very endearing boyfriend_. Naturally, Prompto’s vaguely wondering if he’s done something wrong, or if Regis Caelum is just hard to read. “My son will be the one to mess everything up. Might I offer you some advice?”

 

Prompto blinks, and he doesn’t say anything, so Regis takes that as an invitation to keep talking. “Noctis is an idiot, Prompto. Just… please keep that in mind. He’s not good at _this._ His heart’s in the right place, but…”

 

The words don’t register with Prompto, of course, because he’s thinking of Noctis, his image of Noctis. His boyfriend. Gorgeous, maybe grumpy and aloof at times, but absolutely endearing. Noctis, who’s been showering him with gifts and warm affection, with absolutely ridiculous good sex, always thoughtful, and… well. Prompto can’t see the greater picture here, of course, and that’s why this story exists in the first place.

 

“I love your son,” Prompto blurts out, suddenly, and then he realizes what he’s said, and he turns a ridiculous, bright red. Not the attractive red flush spreading across his freckled cheeks, either, but a splotchy mess, and he ducks his head down, groaning. “I’m making this weird, aren’t I?” He’s absolutely making things weird. He hasn’t even said that particular word to Noctis yet, and here he is, confessing to his boyfriend’s dad? This is all sorts of bizarre.

 

“I like you, Prompto,” Regis says in response. Noct reenters the room just then, reluctantly, and he’s still limping, but he’s holding out the car keys. “Noct, I like this boy. He’s a keeper. Don’t’ mess this one up, got it?”  


Noctis groans and he tosses the keys at his father’s head. Regis, naturally, reaches out and catches them effortlessly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dad.”

 

“I take full blame,” Regis replies mildly, pocketing the keys. “I raised you, after all. I raised an idiot. Oh, that reminds me,” - and naturally, in the most dad-like-way possible, he switches tangents mid-sentence, into a subject completely unrelated, and Noctis and Prompto are both wondering _how_ that reminded him, but it’s dad logic, so whatever – “there’s that _thing_ coming up, Noctis. Ignis has been lecturing you about bringing a date. Perhaps you should bring Prompto.”

 

“I dunno if that’s a good idea –“ Noctis starts to say, but Prompto’s looking eagerly in Noct’s direction now. His stomach is flipping. A _thing?_

 

“It’s a _work event,_ ” Regis offers silkily, “but perhaps Noctis should fill you in on those particular details…”

 

“He doesn’t wanna hear about that, dad,” Noctis says firmly, with a very pointed glare, and Prompto feels very much like he’s horribly out of the loop here, helpless to simply watch the back-and-forth exchange between father and son. Prompto feels like maybe he should speak up and ask what the hell they’re hinting at, but Regis, apparently, seems satisfied with the response.

 

“I could go for a beer,” he says instead, with a smile, “have a drink with me, Prompto?”  


Prompto nods, and he’s still feeling blindsided, but he ends up spending the better part of his date night with Noctis getting to know his dad pretty well. And even though there’s a hole burning its way into Prompto’s heart, he’s enjoying himself. He’s remembering, of course, that he still has that shell tucked away in his bedroom, and he’s been avoiding making a phone call for a few weeks now. Prompto vows that he’s going to change that, because talking to Noct’s dad has made him realize just how much he misses his own father figure. He’s going to call his uncle tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. numi and i decided that prompto needed to get his dick wet. so, here ya go prom.  
> 2\. maybe reg should've told prompto but uh, it's not his job to cover for his idiot son. he's TRYING, ok.  
> 3\. i'm gonna use this space to pimp out the ffxv promptis fanweek i'm co-organizing with my buddy, check us out on tumblr @promptisfanweek . it will be fun i promise.  
> 4\. i'm on tumblr @destatree , twitter @thatdest .  
> 5\. as always, i love your comments and kudos and eternal love. continue to speculate on how long this stupidity's gonna go on for. the obliviousness continues...


	8. Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis gives a good piece of advice for once in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Chapter 8 art](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DEA9tZ2VwAAZ6tx.jpg) . Art by my #bae, Numi.

There’s something very strange, very unsettling about waking up in a bed that isn’t your own. Especially an incredibly fancy bed, one that smells so much like one’s very rich, very important boyfriend – a scent Prompto’s becoming increasingly familiar with – but is still distinctively different. The curtains are drawn, but there’s a little crack of sunshine streaming through, and as Prompto rouses and lifts his head, the sun hits him square in the face, makes him blink blearily and grumble and collapse back into the pillow.

 

Of course, Noct’s alarm picks that fucking moment to go off. It’s still that goddamn awful, stupid default high-pitched monstrosity.

 

Prompto groans again, but he lifts himself up on his elbows, leans across Noctis – who’s sprawled across the bed, an arm thrown around Prompto’s waist – and grabs his phone, smashing at the screen until it silences.

 

“Noctis,” Prompto shoves the phone in his boyfriend’s face, “turn the alarm off. God I feel like shit, why do I feel so bad?”

 

Noctis makes a grumpy noise in return, and unlocks his phone with a half-cracked eye, before passing it over to Prompto “ ‘s unlocked. Do it yourself.”

 

Prompto settles back down in the blankets and turns off the ridiculous alarms Noctis has programmed into his phone (each with an increasingly more intense message: ‘wake up’, ‘no seriously, wake up’, ‘pretend this is ignis’s voice’, ‘ignis set this alarm FYI’, ‘NOCTIS GET YOUR DUMB ASS OUT OF BED’ and so on.) Noctis sighs happily, and tightens his arm around Prompto’s waist.

 

Of course, Prompto remembers the night before, as he’s snuggled warm and close. His head hurts, and it’s not an unbearably bad headache, just a bit of an unpleasant throb in his temple. But then he remembers he knocked a few beers back with Noct’s dad. Oh god. Noct’s dad. That happened. Right. Fuck. This is a lot of information for Prompto to take in. He didn’t get too properly drunk, did he? Prompto doesn’t think so. He hopes Noct’s dad likes him, and there’s a flutter of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Stop moving around,” Noctis drawls, his voice thick with sleep, “you’re worse than the alarms.”

 

“Sorry,” Prompto groans. His stomach is still doing those awful somersaults though. He should drop the issue, should go back to sleep, but Noct’s already lifting his head. He looks a mess, slightly hungover as well, hair mussed in every direction. Did they have sex the night before? Prompto shifts, and there’s a familiar ache between his thighs and it all comes back – yeah, he definitely got drunk, and yeah, they definitely had sex. Messy, gross sex, because Noct’s got dried come in his hair. It almost makes Prompto laugh, but his head throbs again, and he groans and settles back into the nice, soft pillows.

 

“You’ve got a hangover,” Noctis laughs a little, “lightweight, huh?”

 

“Just can’t stomach beer,” Prompto admits with an embarrassed little laugh. Beer and tequila. His weaknesses. Really, he hadn’t had that many. Apparently just enough to laugh around with Noct’s dad, and then roll into bed with his boyfriend for some nice, messy drunken sex afterwards. “… I didn’t make too much of an idiot in front of your dad, did I?” Prompto’s pretty sure he’d remember, if he did.

 

“He likes you,” Noctis smiles sleepily, but he’s dragging himself up out of bed, stumbling a little as he gains his footing. “Thinks you’re way too good for me.”

 

Prompto laughs weakly into the sheets, and he’s perfectly happy to relax there again, to let himself be limp and weightless for a while. He should’ve gone for his run, but it’s too late for that. The bed dips as Noctis returns, and he leans forward to pluck his phone from Prompto’s loose fingertips, in turn helping him to prop up against a pillow.

 

“Here,” Noctis carefully closes Prompto’s fingers around a couple of pills and a glass of water. “For the headache. I’d offer to cook you breakfast but that’ll probably poison you. So… how ‘bout I order some delivery? I know a good brunch place.”

 

Prompto downs the pills and drains the entire glass of water. It makes him feel just a touch better, getting some hydration in him. “Sounds good,” he agrees, “I want some French toast, Noct, that sounds so fucking good.”

 

“Crème Brule French toast sound good?” Noct’s already swiping open the food app on his phone, and Prompto smiles dreamily, snuggling back down into the sheets after he sets the glass aside. It sounds like the most disgustingly sweet, delicious breakfast. Therefore, it’s perfect.

 

“Noctis, you know me too goddamn well. We’re like, soulmates or something,” Prompto closes his eyes, and he’s happy when Noctis settles down behind him again, fingers working delicate circles over his spine, easing out tension that Prompto wasn’t even aware he was carrying.

 

“Soulmates is a pretty heavy term,” Noctis says idly, and there’s a hint of tease, but there’s… something more there, too. Prompto’s glad his face is buried into the pillow, because his cheeks are burning up bright red.

 

“It was a joke, Noctis,” Prompto makes a sad attempt at teasing, but he’s pretty mortified. He’s been dancing around the whole feelings thing, and it’s not like he’s in denial about how he feels, but… saying the actual words, this early into a relationship, it makes Prompto worry that he’s gonna chase Noctis off. Nevermind that this is the best relationship he’s ever been in, easily, that he and Noct seem to get each other, that the rest of the stuff in the background fades away, isn’t important.

 

“Yeah, and I’m joking too,” Noctis says after a moment, laughter in his voice, and he’s snuggling closer, pressing his face into the back of Prompto’s neck and laying heated, lazy kisses there, fingers dancing up his back, to work at his tense shoulder blades, to ease away every last ounce of pain and tension.

 

“You’re good at massages, too?” Prompto sighs happily, and he’s more than pleased to let the whole ‘saying stupid shit about being soulmates’ thing fall to the wayside. It’s impossible to be upset, after all, with his boyfriend’s ridiculously talented hands working magic over his skin.

 

“You really wanna feel good?” Noct shifts, moving to straddle Prompto’s back, and Prompto lets loose an outright moan as Noct’s fingers work through his hair, massaging at the base of his skull and working delicate against the pressure points in his neck. Whether it’s the painkillers kicking in fast, or just the fact that Noct’s really good at that, Prompto feels his headache easing away almost instantly.

 

“It’s not fair, Noctis,” and Prompto sighs, as Noct’s fingers are pressing delicate circles right behind his ears, “that you’re so good at everything.”

 

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Noctis teases, hands working down to lavish attention on Prompto’s neck again. Prompto can only sigh, a blissed out mess of sleepy, hungover idiot, tangled up in the sheets, and he snuggles down, content, as Noct presses a kiss into his shoulder and gently slides to the side.

 

Prompto wants to point out that he wishes he knew everything. Honestly, Noctis is so goddamn perfect at this point, that he could tell Prompto that he’s the heir to some ancient line of kings or something, and Prompto wouldn’t be surprised. It’s really unfair, that someone as gorgeous as Noctis exists in the same world as the rest of them.

 

“I’m gonna shower,” Noctis leans in for more kisses first though, lazy, wet, open-mouthed presses of lip and tongue that trail across Prompto’s shoulder, down his spine, until they meet with the curve of the blankets around his waist. “I smell like sex.”

 

“You’ve got come in your hair,” Prompto points out, a little dreamily, and he can’t help but laugh.

 

“Gross,” Noctis rolls his eyes, but he climbs out of bed, and heads into the bathroom, “I’ll be quick. Yell if the doorbell rings, I told them to leave it outside.”

 

Prompto is content to laze back in bed though. The headache is mostly gone, and he’s just left feeling a little exhausted and a whole lot hungry. True to his word, Noct’s quick to finish up, and he’s in the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his shoulders, throwing on a pair of lazy clothes when the doorbell rings.

 

“Thank god, I’m so hungry,” Prompto groans dramatically. Noctis rolls his eyes and throws his wet towel on Prompto’s head as he finishes dressing quickly and goes to get the food from the front door.

 

Prompto quickly decides that food is a worthy tradeoff, so he crawls out of bed and throws on a pair of Noct’s pyjamas. They’re well-worn and smell like him, and it makes him smile, makes him feel intimate, being in his boyfriend’s fancy apartment, wearing his old clothes. Prompto stifles a yawn and rolls his shoulders as he pads out into the living room – and that massage really did do wonders, because he feels great.

 

Noct’s grabbing plates out of the cupboard, and Prompto sets himself down at the little kitchen table. There’s a bunch of stuff cluttered over the top – bills, some official looking paperwork, a few scattered business cards – and it’s obvious that Noct doesn’t find reason to eat at the table very often.

 

“Sorry it’s a mess,” Noctis half-assed apologizes, though he’s quick to put the food aside to go clear off the table. Well, ‘clear off’ in a relative sense in that he simply moves the mess onto the coffee table. Prompto’s pretty sure he’s just going to throw it back on the table after they eat.

 

“When I move in, I’m gonna have to make you clean,” Prompto teases. Well. Mostly teases.

 

Noctis doesn’t seem to mind though, because he leans down for a kiss before he goes back to throwing their food onto plates. He has a coffee maker, at least – a fancy looking one – and he seems to have a decent enough knowledge of how to use it, because Noct gets some coffee brewing for them, too.

 

Prompto watches, and he realizes something, as he’s staring at Noct’s back. Well, he’s mostly staring at his ass. Noct’s wearing a loose-fitting pair of pants that hangs very low on his hips, and his shirt’s riding up as he reaches up in the cupboards for the mugs. A shirt that Prompto absolutely recognizes.

 

“Hey,” he says, a bit accusatory, “you stole my damn shirt.” Prompto’s only been looking for his stupid favourite shirt for ages now. He should’ve known Noctis had stolen it. And really – he can’t bring himself to be upset by it. Quite the opposite, in fact; Prompto’s heart is thrumming in his chest, and he feels warm and fuzzy inside.

 

Noctis has the decency to blush, as he looks over his shoulder. “It’s comfortable. I liked it.”

 

“Should’ve asked before stealing, jerk,” Prompto whines, but he’s not really upset, and he’s probably grinning like a damned lovesick idiot. His cheeks hurt from the effort of it.

 

“You can have it back, if you want it,” Noctis brings the plate over though, and sets down some ridiculously junky looking French toast in front of Prompto. The coffee follows – Noct’s already added the cream and sugar for him, and Prompto realizes as he tastes it, that it’s just the way he likes it. And, more importantly, it’s some damn good coffee. His boyfriend, wearing his shirt, making him the perfect cup of coffee, and well… sure, the food wasn’t made by him, but close enough, right?

 

“Keep the shirt,” Prompto says happily, digging into his food. He steals a bite of Noct’s bacon and eggs, too, and his boyfriend allows it with a roll of his eyes.

 

Naturally, they spend most of the morning after breakfast completely ruining the cleaning up Noctis had done. The sex is fantastic. It’s always fantastic, but there’s something particularly satisfying about morning sex, with Prompto on his knees riding Noctis until they’re both a blissed out mess. The sheets are ruined, but they were already ruined, after the first rough bout the day before, let alone before their sloppy, drunken selves had gotten into it.

 

Prompto’s got his chin resting on Noct’s chest, staring up at him as they lay tangled together, when he finally speaks, “Noct?”

 

“Hmm?” Noct’s eyes are closed, and his head’s tipped back. His face is sweaty, and his dark bangs are stuck to his forehead. He looks relaxed though, and Prompto half-expected him to be fully asleep, to not get a response at all.

 

Prompto shifts a little, and the arm curled around him tightens. Noct doesn’t open his eyes, but he makes a quiet sound, “out with it.”

 

It’s hard to figure out what to say. Prompto mulls it over, in a long moment of silence. “Meeting your dad… it got me thinking. Y’know my uncle? I haven’t seen him in… well, a long time. Thought maybe I should stop by and check in on. See how he’s doing.”

 

Noctis blinks lazily, and his eyes – a stormy grey, with the shadow the curtains are casting on his face – lock onto Prompto’s. “You want me to come with you?”

 

Yes, Prompto thinks, instantly, but… no. He can’t bring his new boyfriend along on his first trip to see his uncle in far too long. It’d be weird, both for Noctis, and for Cor. Of course, he wants to admit that he’d like Noct’s support here, anyway, but…

 

“Maybe if there’s a second time,” Prompto says, quietly, and his voice shakes a little. “Noct. I uh… I’ve been kind of a shitty nephew. I just… stopped putting effort in, y’know? He still calls sometimes, and I always find a reason to not answer. Or I answer and I don’t say much of anything…”

 

Prompto’s rambling, and his eyes are a little bit wet, and he realizes that, stops himself, and takes a deep breath. “Point is. I don’t think he wants to see me.”

 

“Shut it,” Noctis lifts a hand and he carefully wipes a thumb under Prompto’s eye, clearing away the hot tears welling in the corners. “Prom, you’re being dumb. He probably backed off to give you space. You haven’t told me much, but… sounds like he cares.”

 

Desperately, with a sudden, harsh ache that goes right to his heart, Prompto wants Noctis to be right. He’s been carrying the weight of it for a while, slowly mulling over what the right thing to do is, for far too long. He should’ve called when he’d gotten back from the beach. And he’d intended to, he really had, but… Prompto’s not sure what he’ll do, if his uncle rejects him now.

 

“He’s stupid if he cares,” Prompto admits – though the words come out in a blurted rush – and it’s pathetically hard to hold back more of the tears. “I kinda abandoned him. I mean… I guess I was mad.”

 

Noctis shifts, turning them, so they’re both on their sides, their foreheads pressed together, and he leans in to give Prompto a gentle kiss. “So apologize. Talk to him. My dad’s a pain in the ass, but… he’s always got my back. In his own way.”

 

Prompto laughs a little at that, “dunno, Noct, he was shit talking you pretty hard last night.”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, and his eyes darken, and for a moment, Prompto gets the feeling that there’s some words hanging on the tip of Noct’s tongue, something important that’s just about to slip out. But the moment passes, as it always does, and he shakes his head instead, “I kinda deserve all my dad’s shit talking. He loves me anyway, though.”

 

Prompto wonders if his uncle still loves him anyway, after he’s pushed him away, after their relationship has become so strained over the years. But his uncle’s always been the person he’s gone to for tough advice, and well… falling in love, real and proper? That’s something that maybe he needs tough advice on.

 

“I’ll go visit him,” Prompto agrees, finally, after a silence, and he leans in for a kiss, long and lingering.

 

\---

 

Noctis drops Prompto off at his place in the afternoon, and Prompto can’t help but feel a little pang of regret at the thought of going back to his own apartment. Even though Cindy’s there, it feels different, empty, when he’s without Noctis. Prompto’s pretty sure this is a problem, and they’re going to have to actually talk about what this relationship is, and where it’s going. But Noct seems like he has a busy afternoon – he’s on the phone with Ignis even as they’re running out the door – and so Prompto decides they’ll talk later. After he’s talked to his uncle, maybe, if he musters up the courage to do that.

 

Prompto doesn’t have a whole lot of possessions from his childhood. It’s not something to angst about, or to waste a lot of energy on being sad over. It simply just is. And Prompto doesn’t really blame anyone in particular for his circumstances. He lived in a few foster homes over the years, bounced around as the perfectly nice people who cared for him – and they really were all perfectly nice – couldn’t handle it anymore. Prompto knows it’s not his fault. It’s not his foster parents’ fault too, because they’re just good people who were stretched too thin on attention and resources to keep him around. It’s all part of a ‘flawed system’ or whatever. That’s a story for another day.

 

But he does have a little box of stuff he managed to hold onto over the years. It’s in the back of Prompto’s closet, stacked neatly on top of a larger box with some of his college textbooks and workbooks. Sometimes, when Prompto needs to remember, he combs through the little box. There’s not a whole lot in there. Cards from birthdays and holidays that his uncle sent over the years, the little old Polaroid camera and all the photos he took, a few knickknacks and some letters from old foster parents. Nice little memories. Right now, Prompto carefully opens the box, and even though he doesn’t remove anything, he stares down the little stack of objects for what seems like an eternity.

 

Finally, he closes the box, and he goes to grab Noct’s car keys. Eventually, he’ll have to give the car back. But not today. He sends Noctis a quick ‘miss you’ text, and even though it’s been years, Prompto still has the address memorized as he punches it into his phone’s GPS.

 

Prompto’s uncle has lived in the same little apartment complex for a good number of years. It’s one of those two story affairs that’s L-shaped, long and relatively low to the ground. It’s not a particularly bad area, either, built on the outskirts of a residential area, all old suburbs with mature trees and sidewalks. Really, it’s a pretty peaceful spot, even if Prompto knows his uncle got grandfathered into a much better rent rate than it’s going for today.

 

The Maserati looks horribly out of place in the little parking lot. To be fair, it looks out of place pretty much everywhere Prompto ever takes it – who drives an expensive sports car to the grocery store? Prompto does – but it’s especially noticeable here. Prompto climbs out of the car and leans against the side of the door for a long moment, and he really isn’t sure if this is a good idea. His uncle probably isn’t even home. Maybe he should’ve called in advance. Maybe he’s half-hoping nobody answers the door.

 

Prompto’s half tempted to get in the car and drive off again, but instead he sidles up the sidewalk. His uncle’s got a ground floor apartment – his knee acts up sometimes – and Prompto finds himself idling in front of the door for a good few minutes. What is he doing here? Why is it so hard?

 

Prompto pushes all that aside – because really, he wants to be here. He knocks on the door, half expects there to be no response, but after a long moment, the lock clicks and it opens.

 

There’s a moment of silence where Prompto doesn’t know what to do. He stands there awkwardly, fidgeting a little, playing with the hem of his sweater. It’s a stupid sweater, really (Prompto’s says “SOUL” and Noct has the matching one that says “MATES” and they’d laughed about how cheesy they were and bought them as a joke, but it doesn’t really work having one without the other) and Prompto’s anxiety is kicking in a little. He doesn’t know why. It’s just his uncle.

 

“Hey,” Prompto says finally, awkwardly, and he chances a glance up from the ground. His uncle looks good, he realizes, piercing blue eyes that are slightly widened in what’s apparent surprise. He looks older, wrinkles more defined, hair greyer than before, and a bit of stubble lining his defined jaw. But… Prompto relaxes a little, because his uncle looks shocked to see him, yeah, but not upset.

 

“Shit, Prompto? Didn’t expect to see you,” his uncle says, and his voice sounds the same, deep and rough around the edges, and it still sends that familiar little wave of nostalgia all through.

 

“Sorry, I should’ve called,” Prompto laughs a little awkwardly, but at least he’s laughing, and he raises a hand to scratch at the back of his head, mussing up his hair in the back. “Didn’t really know if you’d be okay with me dropping by though, so figured I’d risk it.”

 

The words are a pathetic little confession, and Prompto drops his eyes again. His uncle though, takes a step forward, and claps an arm on Prompto’s shoulder, then drags him into a rough, one-armed hug. “Okay with it? Hell, Prompto, you’ve made my goddamn week.”

 

Prompto blushes, and he feels really stupid for being so concerned. He leans into the embrace though, an arm curling around his uncle and staying there, for a long moment, for a hug that he didn’t even know he needed so badly.

 

“So you have time to talk?” Prompto offers up as he draws back, and this time he finds it easier to lift his head and meet his uncle’s gaze. It’s funny, really, how even now, as a grown adult, making his way into the world as best as he can, being here still makes him feel like a little kid. The fact that his uncle’s a good deal taller than him doesn’t help, but… it’s not a bad thing. It makes him feel safe.

 

“Even if I didn’t, I’d make time,” Cor steps back, and opens the door wide, and Prompto grins and steps inside.

 

It’s been a while since he’s been here, and things have subtly changed, but they’re still inherently the same. It’s the same kitchen, well-used and cozy, with a small living room that’s got well-worn furniture. The TV’s been upgraded, Prompto notices with a grin, and his uncle’s movie and book collections have expanded. But there’s still the same dumb, embarrassing school photos of Prompto on the wall – he really was a chubby, stupid little kid, he thinks with a smile – from early years to high school graduation. And there’s a little jolt of guilt when Prompto realizes the birthday card he sent his uncle earlier this year is stuck to the fridge with a little chocobo magnet.

 

“Get you a drink?” Cor offers as Prompto settles himself down on the couch. Same old couch, too, the type that folds out into a bed, and it’s where Prompto spent a good deal of his childhood nights sleeping, when they’d allow him to stay here.

 

“As long as there’s no alcohol,” Prompto’s gotten over the hangover, but it’s still a close enough memory that he doesn’t want anything to do with that again. As appealing as cracking a cold one open with his uncle is, he doesn’t think he can stomach it.

 

“Stopped drinking, don’t have any,” Cor grins from where he’s leaned over the fridge, and he pulls out a couple of sodas. “They’ve got me going to meetings. Don’t think I really need ‘em, but…” he shrugs, closes the fridge, and crosses the distance to settle down on the couch next to Prompto.

 

“Right,” Prompto blushes, fiddling with the tab on the top of his soda can, “I knew that.” He had known that, of course, from the last time they had a proper conversation. That was what, close to a year ago?

 

“It’s fine, Prompto, you know that, right?” Cor leans in, arms drapped across his knees, “that you haven’t been calling. I… expected as much. Kinda stupid, wanting you to lean on me, when I couldn’t give you a home. Accepted that particular demon of the past, but it doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”

 

Prompto flushes, and he leans forward to set his unopened soda on the coffee table. He’s fidgeting a little again, before finally lacing his fingers together in his lap and staring down at the floor. “I just don’t wanna be a burden. I… know you had your own shit going on, and I was just a dumb kid. I don’t blame you for anything. It’s kinda hard though, being alone all the time, doing things on my own. I…” and he laughs a little, forces his eyes up, and meets his uncle’s gaze, again. Cor’s head is tipped to the side, his jaw set and defined, eyes narrowed, but his expression is something of thoughtful determination.

 

It’s reassuring, though, and Prompto edges just a little closer, so that their shoulders brush. “… I guess, I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. To talk. Maybe to… see if we can fix this.”

 

His uncle is silent for a long moment, but his eyes are still searching over Prompto’s, and Prompto feels his cheeks burning bright like fire. He’s still not convinced that they’re getting anywhere, and thinks maybe they’re still going in weird circles.

 

“Think we’re already fixing it,” Cor grunts out roughly, and there’s an emotion there that has Prompto’s eyes suddenly very wet. “Missed you, kid.”

 

Prompto opens his mouth to say something, anything, but the words won’t come out. Instead, all that comes out is a quiet choking noise, and he ducks his head down, his fingers gripping at his knee. He should say something to acknowledge that. He doesn’t really need to, though, because his uncle’s hand, bigger than his, and rough and calloused, closes over top of Prompto’s and squeezes. A long moment of silence goes by, and Prompto realizes, suddenly, that maybe things will be okay between them. It’s not easy – it never is – but they’re finally at peace with the past.

 

“You’re doing okay then?” Prompto finally ventures to say, when his breathing steadies a little, where the tears aren’t quite burning so red-hot in the corners of his eyes. “The place looks… good.”

 

“You mean it’s not a mess like it used to be,” Cor replies, still in that same gruff voice, but there’s a hint of something like pride in the words. “You can be blunt, Prompto. Things weren’t always good.”

 

“Nah,” Prompto agrees, but he’s relaxing a little, leaning forward to pick up the soda again, the can hissing as he tabs it open and takes a swig, “they’re still good memories though. Just… I’m glad. That you’re past that.”

 

His uncle shrugs. “Never totally past it. Don’t think I ever will be. But… coping. Lots of therapy. Pretty sure someone should’ve dragged my sorry ass into therapy earlier.”

 

Should’ve. Well, lots of things should’ve happened in the past, and honestly, Prompto’s not sure it’s either of their fault. “Maybe the world just sucks like that,” Prompto muses, but he’s not quite so upset anymore, not quite so fixated on what’s happened. Coming here, he decides, was a good idea. Because he’s been missing out. He’s been so terrified to find his uncle descending back into his mind, into whatever fucking ghosts haunt him there, that he’s missed out on all this. On his grizzled old uncle living day to day, struggling and succeeding to be okay.

 

“You got that fucked up sense of optimism from me,” Cor replies, with a harsh laugh. And that thought is comforting to Prompto. Maybe they’re not so different after all. Because despite all odds, Prompto’s okay, right? He’s succeeding. He’s poor, and he works a shit job, and it might take him six years to finish a three year degree at this rate, but it’s a hell of a lot better than most kids who get dumped out of the system.

 

“Enough about me, Prompto,” his uncle’s voice cuts off that tangent of thought. Probably a good thing, because Prompto might get lost in it, any longer. “You don’t need to hear about this shit. I’ll tell you all about my therapy and the support groups and the fuckin’ cocktail of pills they’ve cycled me through another time, if you really wanna be bored out of your skull. I want to hear about you.”

 

Prompto flushes a little, but there’s that tiny spark of pride burning up inside of him, that he can’t quite contain. He’s spent years wanting his uncle Cor to approve of him, after all, to finally get to connect with him this way, without all the other shit running in the background, and this is his chance, right? So he takes a swig of his soda and starts to talk.

 

Once the words start to come out, too, Prompto can’t contain them. He talks about his school work, about the classes he’s taken, the project he’s working on, the fact that he wishes he’d graduate faster (and then he has to quickly backtrack and tell his uncle no, he doesn’t want his money, it’s fine, he’s managing). And then he rants for a while about work, about Cindy, mentions that maybe his uncle’d like to come by some time and see the place. And when Prompto’s finally run out of other things to talk about, it’s a good hour later, and he’s downed almost the entire soda, the flat, warm remnants at the bottom all that’s left.

 

“So,” Prompto says when there’s nothing else to say, “I gotta admit. I didn’t just come here to make amends. I uh… I kinda wanted to talk to you about something specifically.”

 

Prompto has to admit, he doesn’t know when he last saw his uncle so goddamn relaxed. Cor’s got one leg up on the coffee table, the other tucked underneath him. He’s downed his own drink, and he’s got an arm thrown over the back of the couch, nestled against the back of Prompto’s head. It’s all subtle touches, in a weird, gruff, fatherly kind of way, but Prompto can appreciate the subtlety of the moment.

 

“You’re okay, right?” there’s a hint to his uncle’s voice that screams concern, and that’s even nice, too, though Prompto feels the rise of guilt that maybe he’s implying that.

 

“It’s not that!” Prompto says quickly, “I’m fine. I just. Well. I met someone.” The words sound stupid, jumbled and a mess as they spill from his lips, and he flushes a little, and tries to play it off, tries to act cool, and fails spectacularly. “You know. Like… maybe, the one.”

 

If his uncle is surprised, he doesn’t quite betray it, though his lip twitches and his brow furrows a little. “Oh? Tell me about the one then?”

 

Prompto smiles a little. This part is easy. Well. Easier. “Noctis. His name is Noctis. It’s been… god, it hasn’t been long. But I’m kinda really-stupid-dumb happy. I… told him about you. And he was the one who told me to come talk to you.”

 

“Smart kid, then,” his uncle laughs, “or maybe really dumb, getting caught up in our drama.”

 

“He’s pretty smart,” Prompto laughs, back, though maybe Noctis really is dumb. After all, he’s getting involved with him, and Prompto thinks he’s turned out decently enough, all things considered, but he’s definitely not rich, doesn’t have a fancy job, and he’ll never really be anyone important.

 

“So. My future nephew-in-law, what is he? A doctor? A lawyer?” Cor’s teasing, of course, but it makes Prompto flush and squirm, and that’s getting right to the brunt of the issue.

 

“Honestly, I’m still… not really sure what he does,” he admits with a laugh, and he sounds even more embarrassed, saying it aloud. After all, who doesn’t know what the person they’re dating does for a living? “I mean, his dad’s like… rich. I think he probably works for the family business or something. He’s got money though, Uncle Cor – shit that sounds wrong, it’s not a money thing, I swear, I didn’t even know…”

 

His uncle frowns. Prompto groans, because he’s made an ass of himself. “Prompto,” his uncle says slowly, “your boyfriend isn’t running a drug cartel, is he?”

 

“What?! No! He’s not like that, I swear--!” Prompto starts to insist, wide-eyed and frantic, but his uncle bursts into laughter, and Prompto can’t even remember the last time he heard his uncle laugh that way. It’s sincere and heartfelt, and it makes his eyes shine and some of the wrinkles smooth from his face, and his uncle suddenly looks very much the mid-forties man he is, instead of the exhausted, old war veteran mask he usually wears.

 

“I was kidding, Prompto,” Cor says with a pat to Prompto’s leg. “So, what’s the issue with him?”

 

Prompto frowns. He’s gone back to picking at the edge of his sweater as he mulls over that particular question. What is wrong? Noctis makes him feel fantastic, so happy, happier than he’s been since that damn day on the beach with Cor, all those years ago. He’s been hesitating though, scared to take it that last step further, and maybe it took a visit to his uncle’s to really piece it together.

 

“I… you’ll have to meet him,” Prompto starts to say, “Uncle Cor, he’s really gorgeous, like it’s not even fair, and he’s got money, and he’s smart and funny, and he treats me well and…” he trails off, trying to find the words.

 

“And?” it’s reassuring, probing, urging him to dig deeper, so Prompto sucks it up and he does

 

“And I mean, I’ve turned out okay. I’ve… we’ve… gotten through it. I have a job, I know what I want to do, but… at the end of the day, I’m just Prompto. Just a poor kid struggling through life. Not really sure what I did to deserve him, y’know?”

 

Prompto flushes because the words sound dumb. He keeps putting himself out there, and it’s stupid to think that his uncle will shoot him down, but he knows he’s an idiot. It’s true though. Noctis is just too good for him, and that’s why he’s so afraid to tell Noctis… what?

 

“I think,” Prompto says, and his voice quivers a little, his hands clenching into tight little fists, balling at his sweater, “I’m in love with him. And I’m kinda freaked out.”

 

There’s a silence. The sharp sound of his uncle taking in a sharp breath of air. Then, he moves, lifting his hand away from the back of the couch to rest it heavy and secure on Prompto’s shoulder.

 

“Listen to me, kid,” Cor says, leaning in, and his eyes are intense, so intense that Prompto can’t look away – and he finds he doesn’t want to. “You’re made of some tough shit. You came from nothing. Yeah, we agreed not to talk about the other shit, but I failed you, every fucking adult in your life failed you. And look at you,” he has to stop talking a moment, voice catching in his throat, and then Cor’s leaning closer, his other hand lifting too, until he’s bent at the waist and gripping both of Prompto’s shoulders, forcing their faces close together. “I’m goddamn proud of the person you are, Prompto. If anything, this Noctis kid doesn’t deserve you. If he makes you happy, I’m happy. But if he hurts you, I’m gonna hunt that boy down and make him regret it.”

 

Prompto realizes his eyes are bright and his cheeks are wet. He opens his mouth to say something, and finds that there’s no words. So, instead, he leans in, throws an arm around his uncle’s neck, and buries his face into his chest. It’s the words he’s needed to hear. Maybe, he’s needed to hear them his entire goddamn life.

 

“Thanks, Uncle Cor,” Prompto mumbles after a long moment, one where he simply buries his face in his uncle’s t-shirt and breathes in heavily. Cor’s arms have shifted and wrapped around him in another one of those sort-of awkward, but nice, embraces.

 

“Bring him around next time, huh?” Cor says, a little gruff, a whole lot awkward, but there’s affection there, and Prompto realizes that he loves his uncle, that he’s missed him so goddamn much. And they’re finally at a point where they can have a relationship. That’s something that Noctis has helped him find, and Prompto realizes how incredibly grateful he is for that.

 

“Yeah,” Prompto says with a faint laugh, wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “I will.”

 

“Good,” Cor seems satisfied with that answer. He straightens, and Prompto pretends to look away when his uncle wipes at his eyes with the back of his arm, too. “So, I have a couple of steaks in the fridge. You wanna stay? Watch a movie?”

 

Prompto brightens significantly. He doesn’t have to work until morning, and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. “Yeah,” he agrees with a grin, “You always made the best steak. Still into all the old war movies?”

 

His uncle laughs, and the mood is somehow shifting, changing, from the serious talk, into something different, something that Prompto hasn’t felt in a very long time. It’s like having a family, like when he’d see kids with their dads, joking around, groaning at bad dad jokes and shooting the shit. He’s happy.

 

“The war movies help,” and that’s a confession that Prompto realizes holds weight to it, even if it’s said flippantly. “New one came out though, I haven’t watched it yet. Has uh – what’s his name? Fuck, Prompto, you know I’m shit at names. That one actor. Older guy. From that one movie you liked when you were a teenager.”

 

Prompto rolls his eyes, “you’re asking me? Where do you think I got my forgetfulness from?”

 

His uncle laughs and slaps him across the shoulder and gets up to get dinner started. They eat, and settle down and watch a movie, and Prompto stays way later than he’d intended to. When he leaves, there’s a bit of lingering, a lot of hesitance, and he promises that he’ll come back and visit again soon. And for once, Prompto really, truly means it.

 

He texts Noctis when he’s in the car, fiddling with the Bluetooth settings and getting ready to drive home.

 

‘went rly well w my uncle. thanks for the advice, noct, ur the best’

 

Noctis replies with a smile emoji and a heart, and such a stupid response shouldn’t make Prompto’s heart flutter as much as it does. Then a follow up text, ‘when u free next? Wanna take u to dinner.’

 

Prompto’s happy. He’s really, stupidly happy. Nothing in the world can possibly go wrong.

 

\---

 

“Your father met Prompto? He was here?”

 

Ignis’s voice is a little incredulous, though he’s trying to mask his surprise.

 

Noctis rolls his eyes and shrugs. He kicks his shoes off, and he throws himself down on the couch. He’s making a fancy dinner reservation at a fancy restaurant, and it’s a damn good thing they let you do this shit online via apps now, because otherwise he’d be making Ignis call.

 

“What’s the big deal? My dad loves him. Thinks he’s too good for me.”

 

“He is too good for you. But he knows now, correct?”

 

Noctis shrugs, “I’m gonna tell him. Gonna ask him to walk the carpet with me. Dad’s idea.”

 

“He doesn’t know?!”

 

Noct’s apartment is not neat, as much as Ignis tries to keep it clean. There’s a bunch of paperwork from the new movie deal Ignis has negotiated – and that’s confidential information, so naturally it’s scattered across the kitchen counter. Various business cards. There’s a goddamn award Noctis won for a serious role he played a few years back, and Noct has his headphones draped over the top of it, a convenient place to store them when he drags his ass to the gym.

 

“I told you, Ignis. I’m gonna tell him,” Noctis says lazily, his voice laced with hints of annoyance. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got this.”

 

“Noctis,” Ignis says firmly, “do not fuck this up.”

 

Ignis, however, is pulling out his phone, and typing off a quick text to Gladio. They’ve got a running tally, after all, and Gladio had been sure that Regis Caelum would rat his son out first chance he got. Ignis was smart enough to know better. He knows that Noct’s father keeps far, far away from his idiot son’s mess.

 

But at this point, Ignis doesn’t really know if he wants to win this particular bet. He’s fairly certain he’d be satisfied enough ending their little bet in a draw. Only time will tell though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> waohhhhhhhhh there's plot here, the plot is coming, WHAT COULD FUCKING GO WRONG HERE??!?!??!?! 
> 
> as always, i'm on tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest. 
> 
> numi's been drawing fantastic art for this and i'm sure you guys all follow her and that's the only reason yall are reading this fic but she posts stuff on tumblr and twitter too @numinoceur , she is the lifeblood behind this story and i couldn't do it without her. this story's for you bae as always~


	9. Mishap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Prompto go on a fancy date. They have two very different conversations with each other at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 9 art](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DEVVkVkWAAEb5UF.jpg) featuring boys in matching suits!!

It’s been a week, and Prompto’s properly nervous.

 

It’s dumb, and he shouldn’t be nervous. Noctis has been treating him to dates all along, after all. But this one seems different. It feels _formal._

 

They’ve only seen each other once in the past week, too, which isn’t helping. Noctis came by late one evening a few days ago and spent the night, but he was up early, with those awful alarms on his phone blaring, and heading out before Prompto had to leave for class. Prompto wants to think that they’re getting comfortable with each other. Not in a way that’s boring or dull, but in the sense that their sex is smoother, that they’ve figured out just how to touch each other. In any case, he wishes Noctis could’ve stayed longer, but Noct says he’s ridiculously busy with a work contract, and Prompto knows better than to ask.

 

He’s visited his uncle twice, in any case, and they’re slowly getting caught up. Hearing about Cor’s recovery is hard – Prompto wishes he could’ve been there. Maybe he had to be estranged though. Maybe it was pushing his uncle away that had forced him to finally start talking to someone who could help him. Whatever it is, he’s doing good now. He’s going to the gym, and his bad knee has stopped hurting him so much. His uncle seems to be smiling a lot more than Prompto remembers.

 

He brings him the shell, too and Prompto’s heart absolutely bursts out of his chest when his uncle admits that he still has the little glass jar of seashells that they collected over the years. There’s a few bits of sea glass, too, the edges dulled and smoothed over the years. The two of them dump the contents out onto the coffee table and reminisce on every object, and the memory behind it. Prompto’s pleased that he really does remember where they found every single piece. They add the sand dollar to the collection, and Prompto promises that someday, he and Noctis are going to bring Cor back down to Galdin for a weekend. It’ll be a good time.

 

But back to this date. It’s got Prompto’s stomach doing flips, because Noctis sends him the name of the place they’re going to, and says to dress in something nice. When Prompto googles the restaurant, he quickly realizes that he doesn’t know what half of the menu items are. There’s also no prices listed, and Prompto’s already figured out that when something doesn’t have a price shown, he doesn’t wanna know.

 

He does wonder, however, what the hell Noct’s gonna eat, because Prompto’s learned that things like ‘quail with rhubarb and pomegranate’ is not exactly his boyfriend’s idea of a good meal.

 

Noct’s picking him up at seven. Prompto’s pacing, and he wonders if he should have gone and rented a proper tux or something. It’s too late for that now, because he’s deep into his skincare routine, a face mask on as he frets and debates what the hell to wear. It’s probably a good thing that Noctis has slowly been invading his wardrobe and taking it over with fancy new clothes, because this place apparently has a ‘dinner jacket’ dress code.

 

Prompto selects a dressy shirt, a pair of dark slacks, and a suit jacket that he honestly doesn’t even remember Noctis buying; likely, it was slipped into his closet at some point or another, with plans such as these specific ones in mind. Satisfied enough with that, he washes his face off, painstakingly does his makeup, and obsesses over his hair for a while. He’s honestly grateful to have the apartment to himself, because he doesn’t really feel like having Cindy fret over him and make comments about how hard Prompto’s trying to look good.

 

His eyeliner, however, is very, very on point. Prompto’s kinda proud of it. The contouring does a very nice job of softening his features, too, and hiding the smattering of freckles. So he’s got that going for him, at least.

 

For once, too, Noct’s actually exactly on time. Two minutes early, even, because the doorbell rings at exactly six fifty-eight. Prompto jumps at the sound of it, because he’s still critically examining himself in the mirror, staring at his reflection, smoothing out a tiny wrinkle in his fancy jacket for the fourth time. Tonight’s gonna be the night, he’s decided, that he properly tells Noctis how he feels. He’s got to.

 

“Hey,” Prompto says, already flushing bright as he opens the door.

 

Noctis is leaning in the doorway, and he looks _so_ fucking impossibly good without even trying. It’s not even fair. His bangs are swept to the side, out of his face for once, but that really looks like the only legitimate effort Noct’s put into his appearance. His skin is flawless and pale as always, lashes dark and thick, eyes lidded with that usual default expression of feigned disinterest. And even though Noct’s suit is a bit disheveled, it’s still perfectly tailored. He’s dressed in all black, as usual – a silky black undershirt, black pants, black jacket – but it suits him so well that Prompto doesn’t even care that it’s probably a bad fashion call.

 

“Hey gorgeous,” Noctis drawls out, his lips quirking up into a smile, and Prompto’s definitely burning up red and angry. It’s hard to care though, because his heart’s going goddamn wild, pounding in his chest.

 

“Gorgeous?” Prompto smiles though, feeling a bit shy, and he leans in to steal a kiss, “pretty sure you shouldn’t talk ‘bout yourself like that, Noct.”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, but he lets the kiss linger, an arm curling around Prompto’s waist, and he’s smiling when they part. “Take the damn compliment, dummy.”

 

“So am I gorgeous or a dummy?” Prompto teases, but he laughs a little, drawing away just enough to run his hands down the front of Noct’s jacket, smoothing out a few of the harsher creases. “You’re all wrinkled, Noct. And here I was obsessing over how _I_ looked.”

 

“Yeah but you’re _always_ obsessing over how you look,” Noctis points out, and Prompto swats at him playfully. He lets Noct take his hand, though, and he can only shake his head and roll his eyes when he realizes Noct’s fancy, expensive-looking shirt is untucked in the back, the tail of it hanging down past the jacket. Really, it’s not fair that Noctis always looks so fucking perfect, even when he’s obviously rushed the whole ‘getting ready’ aspect of this date.

 

Of course, despite his boyfriend’s obvious imperfections, Prompto is still convinced he’s perfect, in his own way. Noctis opens the car door for him – which makes Prompto smile, and he leans in for a quick brush of lips before he climbs in – and they’re on their way, off to this fancy restaurant downtown that Prompto’s never even heard of until recently, to eat food that he’s never dreamed he’d have the opportunity to taste. It’s a hard life, being a simple commoner.

 

Prompto’s hand finds Noct’s thigh as they drive, and he keeps it settled there, warm and content. Occasionally, Noct’s hand drifts over, to tangle their fingers and squeeze. It eases away some of the nerves that are plaguing Prompto, though it replaces one fluttery feeling with another, very different one.

 

“Noctis, I gotta warn you,” Prompto rambles on as they pull into the valet area for the restaurant. Noctis hands over the keys (and a rather significant tip) and they head inside. “I’ve like… never eaten _anywhere_ fancy. A $30 steak for me is like, the pinnacle of fanciness. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

 

Noctis laughs and curls his arm tight around Prompto’s waist, leading him in. There are a few people staring at them, and Prompto’s horribly aware of it, though he just assumes it’s because he looks so goddamn out of place. He _feels_ out of place, at least.

 

“I still have no idea what I’m doing at places like this,” Noctis admits, “honestly, some of the stuff they serve is _weird._ But it’ll be fun, right? Just relax. You look good.”

 

Prompto manages a smile at that. Noct’s right, of course. He’s always right. When is he gonna get to do this again? (Realistically, if he’s dating Noctis, the answer to that is ‘frequently’, but poor Prompto _still_ isn’t fully aware of that fact, still, despite this increasingly extravagant adventure he’s on.)

 

The maître d greets them at the front and ushers them to their seat. She seems particularly partial to Noctis, and they’re offered a seat at the Chef’s table (Prompto doesn’t even know what that even means, honestly) but Noctis declines, asking instead for a table that’s isolated and in the back corner instead, and they’re quick to accommodate.

 

Prompto, for his part, is utterly overwhelmed. There’s something _incredibly_ disorienting about having his chair pulled out for him and his napkin folded and placed in his lap for him. He’s pretty sure his eyes are wide as saucers as Noct’s seated to his left, and all he can do is nod dumbly while their server appears and introduces themselves, somewhat enthusiastically, to Noctis. Prompto’s pretty sure they’re just skipping over him because it’s obvious that he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. The menu is _customized,_ with his _name_ on it, ‘Prompto Argentum’ written across the top in flourished black script, and Prompto can’t stop staring at it. He wonders if it’s in terribly bad taste to whip his phone out and take a photo of their menus, just as proof that he’s actually here and hasn’t died and gone to heaven or something.

 

When he’s handed the wine menu, Prompto’s pretty sure he forgets how to breathe. It’s _thirty_ pages long. He has no idea what he’s doing here. Why did he agree to this? They should’ve just gone to like, a diner or something.

 

The second their server retreats, Prompto reaches frantically for Noct’s hand under the table. “Noct, I don’t even know what to order. What should I _drink?_ I’ve never heard of any of these wines. I don’t even _like_ wine.” Prompto feels guilty and panicked and a little excited all at once, honestly. Guilty, mostly, because he shouldn’t be fighting off a panic attack over the fact that his boyfriend is taking him to a super expensive, fancy restaurant.

 

“Wine is gross,” Noctis laughs, “if you wanna drink, go for the cocktails. Or just do the wine pairing and they’ll choose the wine for you. Nobody’s gonna judge you for ordering a soda, though.”

 

Despite the words, Prompto squirms in his seat, because he can’t order a _soda_ in a place like this. That’d be absolutely ridiculous. He settles on a cocktail that doesn’t sound completely terrible, and he decides that he’ll nurse it over the course of the night. As appealing as the thought of just getting wasted is, Prompto isn’t convinced that it won’t just trigger a spectacular meltdown of horrendous proportion.

 

Noctis, it seems, realizes that Prompto’s uncomfortable. Which would be an accomplishment, given how oblivious Noctis also is, but really, Prompto’s got the whole deer-in-the-headlights look going on, and he’s shrinking down in his chair.

 

“You want me to order for you?” he asks, and there’s a bit of a tease there, but he squeezes Prompto’s hand, and Prompto feels just a touch better.

 

“Please,” he groans appreciatively, “I don’t even know what any of this stuff is.”

 

It gets a bit better, after that. Prompto’s heartrate has gone back down to semi-healthy levels, at least, and it’s easier to breathe. There’s a tinge of second-hand embarrassment when Noctis _absolutely_ is that person who orders a fucking soda at a five star restaurant, and another mad rush when their co-server brings a _bouquet of roses_ directly to the table, but at least the extravagant centerpiece is something that Prompto can duck his face behind, right?

 

Noctis ends up ordering them both a seven-course prix fixe. There’s a few menu options, so he just goes with different choices for each of them (so they can romantically share food, Prompto thinks, though most likely, it’s just so Noctis can steal the plate that appears to have the least amount of vegetables.) Prompto’s happy to pass the lead over, and once the terrifying menu choices are made, he relaxes a little more. The water they’re brought is sparkling water, and even though the fancy cocktail is way too strong, it has Prompto’s mind spinning a little, filling him with a certain level of liquid courage that’s maybe strongly needed.

 

“So,” Prompto says after the first course arrives, “this is like, your life, huh?” he laughs a little, and takes a moment to stare, in awe, at the fancy little dish before them. It’s a cold carrot soup, according to their server, and it’s a good thing the guy explains it, because otherwise Prompto would have no idea. It just looks like thick, orange liquid in a little circular clear glass bowl, and it’s apparently garnished with sweet peas. Prompto takes an experimental little swipe of it and decides it tastes delicious.

 

“I guess,” Noctis laughs sheepishly, though he’s giving his own appetizer a suspicious look. “I don’t do carrots. You want this?”

 

Prompto wants to say no, he doesn’t, but the course is tiny, and before he knows it, he’s finished his own little bowl and is working on Noct’s.

 

“I don’t really do this often,” Noctis adds, with a shrug, and he leans back in his chair a little. The lighting is dim, and the atmosphere of this place, Prompto has to admit, really is romantic and cozy, once he gets past the whole extravagance of it. “Just wanted to treat you to a nice night. I… I really care about you, Prom.”

 

Prompto blushes, putting his spoon aside. He reaches across the table for Noct’s hand, and their fingers twine together. He should say something. He should say _it._ It’s the perfect opportunity, after all, right?

 

“Noct, I…” Prompto pauses, searching for the right words to say. He tips his head to the side, his thumb swiping thoughtfully over the back of Noct’s hand. “… I really. This means a lot, even if I’m a nervous mess. Thanks.”

 

Okay, so he doesn’t say it. But the look they exchange is one that’s silently communicating something, and Prompto doesn’t think it’s entirely his imagination.

 

They make it through two more courses uneventfully. The pacing is slow, but it’s nice, not feeling so rushed. Prompto has a very specific feeling that the waitstaff has figured that they’re on a date, so they’re giving them plenty of space, which helps. And the food really is good. The best little bits of food that Prompto’s ever had, honestly. Noctis dutifully eats around the vegetable garnish on one of his courses, but the other one – bison with black garlic – appears to be up to his standards, because he eats the whole thing, and then snags a bit of Prompto’s scallop.

 

They’re waiting for their first entrée course when Prompto starts to regret guzzling as much sparkling water as he has been. It’s a nervous response, really – he’s still nursing his cocktail, after all – and he fidgets a little.

 

“I’ll be back,” Prompto says, after he carefully looks around the room and locates the bathroom, “don’t eat my food while I’m gone, huh?” Noctis rolls his eyes and waves him off, and Prompto’s vaguely aware that their waiter’s eyes are on him as he retreats into the bathroom.

 

It’s fancy too, of course, but _thank fucking god_ not the level of fancy to have someone attending, because Prompto really wants relative peace to do his business, and he definitely spends a good deal of time staring in the mirror and examining every last little detail of himself. His makeup’s held up perfectly, and even though his hair is a bit messy, it’s not the end of the world.

 

Prompto probably spends a little too much time in there, and when he returns back to their table, he flushes because their server is engrossed in a conversation with Noctis. Noct doesn’t look particularly thrilled to be having the conversation, but he’s as engaged as Noctis ever really is.

 

“… don’t know how you’re so good at it, honestly,” their server is saying, quite enthusiastically, voice drifting over as Prompto approaches.

 

Noctis is shrugging, “Dunno. It’s just… a mindset, I guess. I don’t think I’m any good at it, but I still have a job, so. Guess I’m doing something right.”

 

Prompto blinks. He should go right to his seat, but he stops for a moment, standing still, off to the side, and maybe he shouldn’t be listening, but he’s _curious._

 

“More than something right! You’re involved in that one coming up about the bank fraud that happened with uh… Izunia, right?” the waiter is grinning, despite the professionalism he’s supposed to be exhibiting; it’s not every day, apparently, that someone as important as Noctis shows up in his restaurant.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis says, and he actually manages a smile, one that isn’t entirely forced and awkward, as he sips at his soda. “I can’t get into details, it hasn’t really all been made public, still in the initial stages, but… I’ve never really done true crime before. It’ll be a change. I’m a bigshot lawyer. It’s not so bad. Dress in a suit, look brooding and intimidating. My usual thing, y’know?” he laughs a little though, and Prompto’s stomach jumps to his throat, because clearly, there are only a few real details of this conversation sticking out, and maybe they’re just the ones he’s wanted to hear. A lawyer? Noctis really _is_ a lawyer, just as his uncle keeps joking and hinting at.

 

Just at that moment, the server looks up and spots Prompto hanging there awkwardly. “Apologies!” and Prompto’s blushing and blinking and very flustered as his chair’s drawn up for him, and he sits down, mind tripping over the information he’s just learned.

 

“I’m sorry if that was out of line,” their poor server says hastily, and he gestures at a bottle of champagne and a couple of flutes that were left on the table. “On the house. Compliments of the chef.”

 

“It’s fine,” Noctis says, but he’s fixing Prompto with a _very_ strange look, one that has Prompto feeling even more lost and confused, shifting in his chair to try and get comfortable. So Noct’s a lawyer. That… well, it could be worse. Prompto’s not sure how he feels. Why didn’t Noctis just tell him? But he hasn’t outright _asked,_ either, has he? And it makes sense.

 

“I’ll leave you two. Next course should be out shortly. And, Mr. Caelum, if I may? I’m _really_ looking forward to seeing that party next week. That last one was fantastic, I’m sure they’ll outdo themselves again…”

 

Noctis smiles and nods politely, but that strange look is still on his face. Noctis looks… nervous, as, they’re left alone. Prompto’s suddenly nervous, too. He still doesn’t know how he feels. Does he feel betrayed? … no, not really, honestly. It’s not as much of a surprise as it could’ve been. At least Noct isn’t in the mafia, and definitely isn’t involved in any weird drug shit.

 

Besides. It can’t be easy to talk about something like that, after all. Noct’s probably got a lot of nondisclosure agreements or whatever, and he probably can’t talk about open cases. It’d explain Noct’s weird work schedule, too, or the fact that Ignis seems to call him off with a moment’s notice. In all, Prompto’s deciding he’s okay with it. And he’s a little relieved, honestly, to have that secret between them revealed. If it ever really was a secret.

 

“So, I guess you heard that,” Noctis sighs, leaning across the table, manners gone all to hell with the way his elbows rest on the fine linen. “… sorry. I know I don’t talk about work. I should’ve brought it up sooner.”

 

Noctis, of course, has no idea what Prompto’s heard. Some good, honest communication will clear all this up. Except, of course, this is Noctis and Prompto, who have been exercising poor communication skills for pretty much the entire duration of their relationship.

 

“It’s okay, Noct,” Prompto says in a bit of a rush, and he reaches forward, takes Noct’s hand in his own and gives a good squeeze. “I can kinda tell why you wouldn’t wanna tell me. It doesn’t change anything, though. I like you because you’re _you.”_

 

There’s a long silence between them, and then Noctis smiles, an honest to god, genuine smile, one that makes all the tension melt away between them. “Kinda hard to tell people. I get recognized a lot, and it’s always hard to tell when people are just after me for the money… probably should’ve told you sooner, though. I’m sorry, Prom.”

 

Prompto leans in for a kiss, one that’s sickeningly sweet, and completely dumb, and his stomach is jumping leaps and bounds. “It’s fine, Noct. I told you. I get it.” He’s grinning like an idiot as they part though, and even though he still has some of his cocktail left, he eyes the champagne. “Guess you have a fan, huh?”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, but he seems pleased with Prompto’s reaction to the news, and reaches for the bottle. “Guess so. Cheers?”

 

Prompto sips at the fancy champagne, after Noct pours it and they clink their glasses together. It’s not bad. Prompto doesn’t like champagne, but this one’s particularly light and bubbly and refreshing. And okay, now that he knows his boyfriend apparently really _does_ make the big bucks, it’s hard to feel guilty about this whole night.

 

“So, I wanted to ask you something,” Noctis says, a few minutes later, after their next course arrives. Prompto’s got chicken with artichokes, and Noct’s eating some weird pasta dish. “Kinda the reason I asked you here.”

 

“A little early to be proposing, don’t you think?” Prompto teases, but his heart’s thumping in his chest – and he has to admit, if Noctis asked him, would he really say no? It’s hard to say. It’s a big joke, anyway, right?

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, and takes a mouthful of pasta. “Proposing at a _restaurant?_ I’m pretty bad, Prom, but I’m not _that_ tacky.”

 

“Dunno,” Prompto shoots back, trying a little sliver of his chicken. It’s absolutely delicious. Okay, he can absolutely get used to living this lifestyle. “You’re the worst, Noctis. You tried to give me your expensive sports car after what, like a couple months of dating?”

 

“I gotta remind you that you’re still driving that car,” Noctis laughs, despite the tease. “Seriously though. I’ve got this work thing coming up. I was gonna have this whole coming clean moment, where I asked you to go, but… guess I can skip the first half of the conversation, huh?” He has the good grace to blush, and Prompto’s reminded, yet again, that it’s not fair how gorgeous his stupid boyfriend is, with his perfect face and his perfect hair and his perfect _everything._

 

“So, you’re inviting me to a fancy work party?” Prompto blinks. Of course. Noct’s dad had mentioned that there was a work thing coming up, and that Noctis should invite him. Honestly, he didn’t think anything of it at the time, assumed it was a tease, or that Noctis wouldn’t want him there… but. Well. It’s probably what, a party at Noct’s fancy law office? It can’t be that bad, right? Probably good food, some mingling, maybe a bit of drunken dancing if there’s an open bar. Hell, maybe some drunken dancing, even if there _isn’t_ an open bar…

 

Noctis nods. “That’s the gist of it, yeah. It’s kinda fancy, so I’ll pick you up a tux and everything, but you wouldn’t have to worry about it. Just show up and look good,” he smiles though, because Prompto’s slowly nodding his head, and it’s hard not to think about how much this means, to be Noct’s date, to meet his _coworkers._ That’s basically being introduced to a whole new side of Noct’s life, right? Prompto can’t help but think that things are moving forward for them, that maybe they really _are_ getting serious here.

 

“Yeah, I’d love to go, Noct,” Prompto says brightly, and Noctis sits back, satisfied, and drains his entire glass of champagne.

 

It’s unfortunate, really, that these two idiots are having two entirely different conversations with each other at the exact same time, because Noctis is currently very proud of himself for finally coming clean, all secrets torn down between them.

 

The rest of dinner goes fantastic. The dessert, naturally, is Prompto’s favourite part. He’s got a banana gateau, and it’s got a cookie crust and mascarpone and caramelized bananas.

 

“Noctis,” he says happily, as he scoops some of the delicate filling into his mouth, “this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.” As good as the rest of the food has been, Prompto’s weakness is absolutely his sweet tooth. He’s dying of happiness. He’s stuffed after seven courses, and he’s going to have to run like an entire marathon in the morning, but it’s worth it.

 

“Pretty sure you were gonna pass out two hours ago when I brought you here,” Noct’s teasing though. They’ve been playing footsie under the table for a little while now. Prompto’s finished off his drink. And his champagne. And a second glass. He’s not drunk, definitely not like he was with Noct’s dad last week, but he’s pleasantly buzzed. Enough that Prompto feels shameless enough to lazily drag the toe of his shoe up Noct’s shin as he eats his dessert.

 

“Yeah, well, two hours ago, I hadn’t realized I was getting the best dessert of my life,” Prompto teases right back. He lifts up his fork and offers a bite to Noctis. Noct skeptically eyes the caramelized bananas on his plate, but he dutifully leans in and licks away a bit of the mascarpone.

 

“Not bad,” Noctis actually looks vaguely surprised, and Prompto thinks maybe – just maybe – he’ll broaden Noct’s food horizons, one way or another.

 

“It’s _amazing,_ ” Prompto smiles though, nudging his foot against Noct’s.

 

Apparently, the giant bouquet of roses is for them to take home. Their server comes by and wraps them up in paper for them, and there’s little boxes of chocolates to take home, too. Prompto’s more than a little overwhelmed, yet again, but apparently he’s coping with it better, because he’s all smiles by the end of the night, as they’re heading out.

 

They’re standing in the front lobby of the fancy restaurant, waiting for the valet, when Prompto leans in and presses a kiss to Noct’s cheek. “I… Noctis. Thank you, for this. I’ve never been treated like this before.”

 

Noct’s flushing a little, but the lighting is dim, and so Prompto pretends he doesn’t see. “It’s nothing, Prom. I wanna keep doing this stuff for you, as long as you’ll let me.”

 

“I…” Prompto swallows the lump in his throat, and nudges their shoulders together. He wants to properly express just how good this is – just how goddamn good Noct’s making him feel. He wishes it was easier, that he could throw himself into his boyfriend’s arms. As it is, his arms are full of the ridiculous bouquet of flowers he’s carrying, so he settles for nudging their hips together.

 

“Noct, I…” deep breaths, Prompto, he tells himself, and manages a little half-smile, as he tips his head and catches Noct’s eye, and the world stands still. “I love… _everything_ about tonight,” the words come out in a rush, and Prompto stumbles over himself a little.

 

Noct looks like he’s about to say something, but the valet pulls up with their car, and all he can do is shake his head and, with a hand gently pressing against Prompto’s back, he guides him to the car and opens the door for him.

 

\---

Prompto wishes he’d been invited back to Noct’s place for the night, but Noctis says he has a work thing in the morning, and Prompto knows better now than to wonder and obsess over those particular details.

 

“I’ll send you the calendar invites for that thing we talked about,” Noctis promises as he pulls into Prompto’s apartment building parking lot, in an empty space right next to the Maserati. (Fun fact: everyone in the complex is terrified to park next to the car, out of fear of scratching or banging it up. It’s actually a pretty nice perk.)

 

“Yeah,” Prompto says, with a grin, “I’ll get Luna to cover my shift at work if I have to.”

 

“Cool,” Noct leans over across the seat, and gives him a long, lingering kiss, one where his hand cups at Prompto’s jaw and holds him there, all gentle swipes of tongue and wet heat shared between them. It’s a kiss that has Prompto _really_ wishing he could drag Noctis back into his bed.

 

“Night, Noctis,” Prompto says, reluctantly, breathlessly, as they part.

 

“Night, babe,” the little slip of the pet name isn’t lost on Prompto, and he’s practically skipping as he heads into his apartment. He does skip a little bit, honestly, but he trips over the toes of his stupid fancy shoes and almost falls flat on his face. Smooth, Prompto.

 

He's got the common sense to pour himself a glass of water as he unwinds for the night, properly inside the apartment. The giant bouquet of flowers is stuck in a tall glass pitcher on the kitchen counter (Prompto’s pretty sure they own a flower vase, but hell if he can find it) and he’s shrugged out of his fancy suit jacket. He’s unbuttoning his fancy shirt and heading into the bathroom with his water, when his phone rings. It’s late, and he assumes it’s Noct, but, glancing at the screen, Prompto grins widely.

 

“Don’t tell me you waited up to check in on me?” Prompto’s all smiles as he swipes at his phone and balances it between his shoulder and his ear. He’s in the bathroom, wiping away the makeup from his face.

 

“Don’t make me answer that,” the gruff voice of his uncle sounds from the other end of the line, “I’ll deny it, anyway.”

 

“Past your bedtime, old man,” Prompto replies with ease. Things are getting easier between them, and he’s grateful for that.

 

“Watch it, kid. I might be old, but I can still kick your ass.”

 

Prompto outright laughs at that. “Probably,” he agrees, grinning, one eye squinted shut as he works the last of the eyeliner off with a little cleansing wipe. “Dunno though. All those martial arts classes you made me do when I was a kid might’ve paid off. Maybe I retained some of it.”

 

“Or maybe I should take you to the shooting range. Teach you a thing or two,” Cor’s laughing too though, a little rough, but pride shining through, that strange new emotion that Prompto’s still getting used to.

 

“If you want,” Prompto agrees. He shifts the phone to the other ear, so he can work at the other half of his face. “So. Date went well. Oh! I finally figured it out, you were fuckin’ _right,_ did you know that? He’s a lawyer. I’m dating a super fancy, rich lawyer, Uncle Cor… kinda feels like I’m living in a dream. Like I’m gonna wake up and this has all been a lie.”

 

“Fancy lawyer or not, if you wake up and this is all a dream, Imma kick his ass,” comes the response, swift and fast, and Prompto smiles, yet again. This is a good night. It’s been one insanely good night, in general.

 

“Noct’s not gonna hurt me, don’t worry,” Prompto sighs out, and he shimmies around a little to get his fancy dress shirt properly off, letting it pool to the floor and settle at his feet. He’ll clean up properly in the morning. He’s pretty sure he needs to get the shirt dry-cleaned anyway… “oh, this is cool though, I got invited to this super fancy work party he’s going to. And the dinner was unreal, absolutely out of this world…”

 

Prompto rants for a good fifteen minutes, before he realizes it’s well past midnight. He’s got work in the morning, and he’s got a pile of homework that he hasn’t even tackled yet. Fuck. It doesn’t stop him from talking a little bit longer though. His uncle genuinely sounds happy for him – despite more threats of bodily harm in Noct’s direction  - and Prompto’s honestly on cloud nine.

 

He’s pretty sure nothing could bring him down.

 

Of course, it’ll all come crashing down, and sooner, rather than later. He’s _not_ dating a fancy lawyer, but rather an idiot movie star who’s playing one in his next feature film. And he’s not going to a regular work party, either, but rather a giant red carpet event for the premiere of a new blockbuster film. But hey, small details, right?

 

\----

 

Noctis, for his part, is completely and utterly pleased. He didn’t have to break the news to Prompto, after all, and as much as he was trying to hide the truth in the beginning, he’s glad that it’s out in the open.

 

He’s especially glad that Prompto figured it out on his own, and Noctis didn’t have to have any incredibly awkward, potentially relationship-destroying conversations.

 

‘ _I did it’_ he texts to Ignis as he kicks off his shoes and flops down face first on his bed, without bothering to strip out of his clothes.

 

‘ _You told him?’_ comes the response. Instantly. Ignis is probably still up late working. That, or he has a supernatural six sense that wakes him up immediately the moment Noctis texts. It’s a fifty-fifty shot.

 

 _‘something like that,’_ Noctis types out, _‘hes coming 2 the premiere next week, make him a spa appt will u? want him to feel good about it’_

 

Noctis, of course, knows how stressful red carpet events can be. That’s why it was important to make sure Prompto knew what he was getting into. But if his boyfriend thinks he can handle it… well. Noct’s determined to make it a good night. They’re going to have fun. He’s pretty sure he’s in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've had one fancy meal in my entire life, and it was both the best $250 i've ever spent on a single meal, and also the entire basis of this chapter. also, i recommend victoria & albert's at the walt disney world resort if you ever get the chance to eat there :p
> 
> as always, thanks for kudos and comments and love. tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest. <3 follow @numinoceur on twitter/tumblr for the art that will inevitably accompany this~ still not sure why yall are reading this but hold on, shit's about to hit the fan.... :')


	10. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This entire situation could've been resolved in about a hundred different places with a real conversation....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter 10 Artwork](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DE9yG1LWAAAnkuY.jpg) . (my favourite this far... /dreamy sigh)

Did time always fly by so quickly? Prompto honestly can’t remember. There’s a distinct line in his life, and he can very easily separate things into pre-Noctis and now. Life on the ‘now’ side is so much better. Prompto’s busy, of course, with the usual. Work, and school, his visits to his uncle’s, and trying to work around Noct’s schedule. It hasn’t been easy, and lately, it’s been damn near impossible.

 

Before Prompto knows it, it’s the day before this fancy work event of Noct’s. He’s staring at his phone calendar, at the alert that he’s set for it. Prompto doesn’t want to admit that he’s nervous about it, but, well, he’s nervous about _everything._ At least everything where he’s gonna be the center of attention. And even though Prompto’s planning on sticking close to Noctis and smiling and nodding and maybe getting drunk. Or, well, maybe not the drunk part, because that doesn’t seem like a particularly good coping mechanism. Not to mention that Cor would be disappointed with him about that.

 

Prompto’s just finishing up his shift. He’s got about half an hour left. It was a morning shift, at least, so he’s looking forward to having an afternoon off for once. It’s just him and Luna, and the noon crew has just died down, so they’re trying to get some cleaning done before they go.

 

“So, any plans later?” Prompto’s asking, conversationally, as he washes up some equipment in the sink.

 

“My brother’s picking me up after work,” Luna smiles brightly. She’s maybe making them both some teas that they can discreetly sip under the counter when nobody’s looking. Hey, small perk of the job, right?

 

“Didn’t know you have a brother,” Prompto blinks. He and Luna never specifically talk about themselves, but they’ve been coworkers for a year. It’s usually just the two of them, and they talk a lot. She’s never mentioned a brother.

 

“It’s a long story,” Luna smiles, and she hands Prompto his drink – an iced chai milk tea, with almond milk – and rolls up her sleeves to help with the dishes. “He’s my half brother, so we have different last names. Raised by different parents, too, so we don’t see each other much. He’s… got kind of a different lifestyle, y’know? Our dad pushed him really hard into acting when he was a kid and he’s good at it, but…” Luna shrugs. “Not my thing. I try to avoid it all. Honestly? I don’t even know who all the big-name celebrities are, because it’s just _weird_ having Rav involved in all that. But he’s been wanting to catch up lately, and even if he’s a diva, he _is_ my brother.”

 

“Sounds complicated,” Prompto frowns, though he understands. He did, after all, until recently, have an estranged uncle. “So, he’s an actor? He famous then?”

 

“He likes to think he is,” Luna laughs at that though. Prompto laughs too, leaving the freshly cleaned equipment to air-dry. He wipes his hands off on his apron and leans back against the counter.

 

“Still getting used to _my_ rich boyfriend’s life. I hear ya. Totally different lifestyle.” Not that Prompto’s incredibly upset by that particular fact. He’s only been discreetly (and not-so-discreetly) checking his phone all morning, in hopes of Noctis texting. That big event’s coming up, and Prompto still doesn’t have anything to wear, or any real idea of what’s going to happen. It’s a bit nerve wracking.

 

Just Prompto’s luck though. The door to the tea shop chimes as it opens, and Prompto looks up.

 

“Look who it is,” Luna says with a little knowing smile and a melodic voice.

 

It’s Noctis, of course, and Prompto smiles instantly. His boyfriend hasn’t surprised him at work in ages. Their schedules are always just such a mess. Noctis looks tired, but he always does lately, whenever Prompto can convince him to send a stupid selfie. Prompto’s maybe a little concerned that he’s got spilled tea all down the front of his apron, and his hair’s stuck to his forehead, but he tries to play it cool and leans his hip against the side of the counter, sipping on his tea.

 

“Hey bae,” Prompto grins brightly, and Noctis rolls his eyes at the stupidity of that particular endearment.

 

“Hey babe,” Noctis leans over the counter, a little shameless, and steals a kiss. It’s not like there’s anyone in the shopfront anyway. There’s a couple of people from the lunch rush still loitering in the back room, but the layout of the tea shop has it separated from the storefront in a way that Prompto knows nobody’s watching, anyway. Well, nobody except Luna, who’s eyeing them with a distinct spark of amusement.

 

“You want the usual?” Prompto asks, drawing back from the kiss and reaching for a cup.

 

“Luna’s choice,” Noctis grins at the blonde girl, and Luna rolls her eyes, “none of the gross bubbles though. Hate that stuff.”

 

“You’re pretty much a regular by now, I think I know what you like,” Luna teases. She’s definitely flirting a little, but it’s all for show, and Prompto only grins and swats at her playfully with the towel that’s hanging out of his apron pocket.

 

“Get your own boyfriend, Luna,” he grumbles. It’s all joking though, no real hint of seriousness to it.

 

“Don’t worry, I go for the dangerous types. Noctis, know anyone? Maybe a nice girl….” Luna laughs, but she plucks the cup Prompto’s still holding from his hands and sets to work brewing Noctis a tea drink, one with a good amount of sugar.

 

“Might know a few people,” Noctis taps his credit card on the table and gives Prompto a _look._ They do this every time. Prompto tries to give Noct a free drink, and Noctis idles until one of them gives. It’s usually Prompto. Finally, he sighs, and charges Noctis for the cheapest drink they have on the menu.

 

“You should at least let me give you a free drink. It’s not like I have anything else to offer in this relationship.”

 

Noctis laughs though, and swipes his card. “Hey, Luna. How much do I gotta tip for you to cover for his sorry ass so I can steal him away?”

 

“Not enough money in the world, Noctis,” Luna replies, with a laugh, “but since I love Prompto, and for some reason, you make him happy, I’ll happily cover for you two lovesick idiots.”

 

Noctis leaves a ridiculously large tip, and Prompto has stopped flailing and protesting it. Honestly, it’s kinda supplementing his income at this point.

 

“Where are we going?” Prompto asks, five minutes later, after Luna reassures him about twenty times that it’s fine, and that she really can handle the shop along for the twenty minutes until his replacement shows up anyway. His apron’s bunched up and thrown in the back of Noct’s car, and Prompto’s really glad he chose to walk to work today, because now he doesn’t need to drive separately back to his apartment. “I should probably shower and change first, Noct.”

 

“You’re fine. I just came from work so I look just as gross,” Noctis laughs, and reaches for Prompto’s hand.

 

Prompto wants to point out that no, Noctis looks _fantastic_ as always, even though he’s just wearing a t-shirt and jeans. Noctis always manages to look so flawless, and Prompto’s well aware of his mussed hair and his gross old shirt and sweaty cheeks.

  
“We’re gonna get you fitted for a suit,” Noctis decides to finally address Prompto’s question, and Prompto mulls that one over. He especially wishes that he’d had time to shower. “You look _good,_ Prom, don’t worry about it.”

 

Because it’s Noctis, they end up in some ridiculously fancy boutique, and even though Noct’s literally asking for them to fit and custom tailor a suit for Prompto in under a day, it seems like he’s on good enough terms with the designers there. They keep asking him how Ignis is – “haven’t seen him in a while” – and Noct grumbles out some response about how busy work has been, and really, Prompto’s just overwhelmed. He’s pretty sure that’s his default existence right now, one of overwhelmed disbelief, as his measurements are taken and he’s ushered to a private little fitting room and handed various fancy clothes to try on.

 

“This isn’t like, gonna cost a lot of money, right?” he asks sheepishly as he cracks the door open and pokes his head out. Prompto feels impossibly self conscious, as Noctis, the designer, and the associate helping them all wait outside.

 

“Money is relative,” the designer says dutifully. Prompto doesn’t know what that exactly means. He doesn’t think he wants to. Naturally, none of these suits have price tags on them. He adjusts the jacket and eyes himself critically in the mirror one more time before he steps out.

 

“Damn,” the sales associate (and she’s really cute, Prompto might add there), says, “that is a _good_ fit for you.”

 

Prompto’s pretty sure he’s got a weird, oddly lanky body that isn’t quite built to wear fancy suits. His shoulders are too broad, and his waist is narrow, and he still thinks he’s a bit too pudgy around the middle. This one fits decently though. It’s simply black, but it _feels_ expensive, in a way he can’t quite describe. He doesn’t wanna know how much this costs. It’s all, well, back to the whole ‘really overwhelming’ thing.

 

“It looks good,” Noct’s eyes are burning into him, and Prompto can’t help but smile at the flash of approval he sees here.

 

Prompto goes through a few other fittings. He tries on a white tux, but Noctis dismisses it instantly (“too flashy”) even though the salesgirl is pitching it pretty hard, and the designer is quick to point out that ‘white will make an impact’ and something about how shawl lapels are more appropriate, but Prompto’s not about to pretend he knows what any of this talk means. Prompto’s pretty fucking relieved that Noctis seems to want to keep low-key, because the thought of being the center of attention is not his idea of a fun time. They keep coming back to the first one he tried on though, the sleek, black, slender cut, traditional with three buttons and a peaked lapel - which, the designer points out quickly, makes him look taller, and well, Prompto will never say no to adding a couple extra inches even though he doesn’t quite get it. 

 

“If you really want to turn eyes, you’d go with the Kiton,” the cute sales girl tries one last time.

 

“I like the first one,” Prompto says, finally, because he’s mostly been sitting back and letting them argue over things, and _that_ it seems, finally puts an end to the debate.

 

“The Ford it is,” and they are quick to take his measurements, to get him back in the black tux, pinning and adjusting, and swiping Noct’s black credit card for the deposit, with the promise that it will be ready for tomorrow (“only because we owe Ignis a favour”) and then Prompto is increasingly relieved to be back in his own clothes and leaving the fancy little boutique behind.

 

Noctis stops in a drive thru to pick them up milkshakes and chicken nuggets and fries for dinner. “Coming back to my place for the night?”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, perking up considerably at that. He chews on a fry and leans across the center console and nudges his face into Noct’s shoulder. “I’m kinda freaked out a little about going somewhere fancy with you, not gonna lie.”

 

“It’s not so bad,” Noct’s trying to sound reassuring, but he also has a mouthful of French fries, and the words come out muffled. “Promise. Just stick with me and smile and people are gonna eat you up.”

 

“The point is try and _avoid_ people, Noctis,” Prompto laughs, but it’s hard to be worried, even as the butterflies are blossoming up in his belly. He hasn’t been back to Noct’s since that first night, and Prompto’s been itching to get back. He doesn’t care that he hasn’t packed any clothes, or that he’s exhausted and probably needs a shower and a good night’s rest, because he’s with Noct.

 

By the time they get back to Noct’s place, they’ve already picked at most of their food, Prompto lazily feeding his boyfriend bites of chicken nuggets as he navigates the freeway and gets them back to his high-rise. Prompto downs half of his shake, but he can’t finish it, because he’ll be mortified if he’s too bloated to fit into that fancy tux he’s just been fitted into.

 

Noct’s apartment is just as impressive as Prompto remembers, as he makes himself at home. Noctis takes a phone call in his office, muttering a silent apology to Prompto with a hand over his phone as he steps inside and nudges the door shut, and Prompto wanders into the bedroom, leaning his forehead against the wide, tall windows that line the wall. It’s a cloudy day, for once, but the view of the city outside is no less impressive, and Prompto wonders, yet again, just what the hell has gotten him here.

 

He hears Noctis reenter the bedroom, and even though Prompto doesn’t tear his gaze away from the cityscape, he hears the quiet sound of Noct emptying his pockets onto the bedside table – probably his phone and his keys – and the quiet scrape of a drawer being opened.

 

“You like the view, huh?” Noct’s voice is right behind Prompto when he speaks, and Prompto simply smiles and leans back as Noct’s arm curls around his waist from behind, the feeling of his boyfriend’s body pressing up warm and eager against his back.

 

“It’s something else,” Prompto agrees, happily leaning back a little, nudging their cheeks together.

 

“ _You’re_ something else,” there’s affection in Noct’s voice, but a hint of something deeper too, something raw and a bit desperate, and Prompto’s cheeks flush as he picks up on it. It’s a messy combination of things, the undertones of desire, and the more overt press of Noct’s body against him, but it has Prompto’s mind starting to reel for different reasons, and his body feels warm and burning up with the first fire of arousal.

 

“I’m just me,” Prompto laughs out, but it’s hard to keep his voice steady, because Noct’s hand has slipped underneath the hem of his shirt and is splayed flush over his abdomen, tracing slowly upwards, dragging the fabric up to bunch around his chest. The touch is light, delicate almost, but it feels impossibly good, and has Prompto sighing out.

 

“You’re _everything,”_ Noctis laughs quietly in Prompto’s ear, and he draws away, just enough to get Prompto’s shirt pulled over his head and tossed aside, and when he presses back in, his shirt is gone too, and they’re skin-against-skin. Prompto laughs too, a little breathless, when Noct’s lips find his shoulder and press kisses there, wet, with a lot of tongue, a bit of teeth nipping at freckled skin.

 

“Better be careful,” Prompto gasps out, as Noct’s arms circle around again, thumb rubbing against the ridge of one hip, right above the band of his pants, “or you’re gonna be fucking me against this window.”

 

Noctis, in response, rolls his hips forward, and Prompto groans as he feels a distinct warm bulge pressing into his ass. He swears he can feel Noct’s lips quirking upward into a smirk against his skin as he replies, all hot puffs of breath, “that’s the plan.”

 

Prompto’s breath catches in his throat at that, and he tries to open his mouth to protest that they’re up here, _exposed,_ that it’s the middle of the day. But they’re high up, and really, who’s going to see? His cock is twitching to life in his pants, anyway, and then Noct’s evil fingers are working at his pants, deftly unbuttoning them and working the fly down, and when he reaches into his underwear and curls a hand around him, nothing else matters.

 

“Fuck,” Prompto sighs out, head lolling back against Noct’s shoulder, both hands braced heavily against the glass. He’s going to leave smeared handprints, but that’s the last thing on Prompto’s mind, his hips rolling forward into the hand that’s slowly pumping his cock, coaxing it into full hardness with strokes from base to tip, thumb flicking little circles over the head.

 

“Been too long,” Noct’s voice is low, his free hand working at Prompto’s pants and underwear and shoving them down his hips to fully expose him. “I wanna wreck you, Prom.”

 

Prompto can only moan in response, because now he’s fully naked, trying to find the presence of mind to awkwardly shift his legs and get his pants all the way off, but it’s hard to do much of anything. Noct’s stroking his cock still, other hand cupping his balls, gently rolling them between his fingers, and it’s driving Prompto insane, making his tummy clench up and his breath come quick and ragged.

 

“Fuck me then,” Prompto groans, and he tips his head to the side to awkwardly catch Noct’s lips in a rough, desperate kiss. It’s all rough heat, affection giving way for something more intense, something that’s pure passion and a good deal of need, and a moan vibrates up from his throat between them when Noctis tugs his lower lip between his teeth.

 

Noct gives Prompto’s erection another rough stroke, heavier, spreading the beading precum over the tip and slicking his motions. Prompto’s pretty sure he could come just from that alone, but Noct releases him, shifting instead to nudge a knee in between Prompto’s thighs and pressing him flush against the window.

 

Prompto gasps out at the contact. Even though it’s not a particularly cold day, the surface of the glass is warm, and against his hypersensitive, heated body, it’s an overwhelming contrast, has him panting and moaning and pressing his forehead against the glass, his fingers grappling for any sort of hold, even though there isn’t one. Noct’s chest is pressed into his back, holding him there, and Prompto hears the click of lube and a familiar slick finger probing between the cleft of his ass.

 

“Carrying lube with you, Noct?” Prompto manages to tease, his voice breathless and quivering, his back arching and ass pushing back against the teasing touch as a slick finger circles his entrance, teasing him open. “Think you wanted this.”

 

Noctis laughs, and they’re pressed so close, Prompto feels it vibrating against him. “Just got it out of the drawer. But if you wanna believe that I’m always prepared in case the chance for a quickie comes up…” and Prompto, maybe, would’ve come up with some witty response, but Noct’s finger slips in past the tight rim of muscle, curving and pulling and stretching him open, and all Prompto can do is make a soft, needy sound, and rock his hips back into the touch.

 

“That dressing room was pretty nice,” Prompto agrees, even though he’s still letting out those quiet noises, writhing and pressing back against the touch as Noctis wastes no time in working a second finger into him. They’ve done this enough times that Prompto’s completely relaxed when they do this, and he can work him open and stretched with ease now. It helps, too, that Noct’s a quick learner, and he’s already memorized the exact way to curl his fingers, to press into Prompto’s inner walls and seek out that sensitive spot that has him moaning and gasping and desperately rocking back.

 

“Public sex, huh? Starting to think that’s your thing,” Noct works Prompto’s prostate hard and relentless as he talks, and he must know he’s not gonna get much of an answer. Prompto’s chest and belly are flush against the glass, and even though it’s warming against the heat of his skin, it’s still a very strange sensation. Even stranger is his cock, trapped between his belly and the hard surface of the glass, and Prompto knows he’s already leaking a thin stream of precum against the window.

 

“ _Nn_ —“ Prompto tries to speak, but there’s a third finger working into him, stretching his rim wide, the sensation a pleasant type of burning pain, not overwhelming, but enough to reduce him into even more of a trembling mess. He takes a deep breath and tries again, “you fucking me is my thing, Noct. How the hell are you – _ngh_ \- so good at this?”

 

Noctis laughs, and it’s another wave of arousal when all three fingers press just right, curling into that sensitive spot that has Prompto seeing stars and rutting his cock against the harsh surface of the window. “Practice,” he purrs out, as he wrenches his fingers free, and shifts to get his pants down. “Helps that you’re so goddamn hot, Prom. You get _really_ into it.”

 

Prompto manages a laugh, even though he’s hard and aching and desperate for the feeling of being stuffed full to the brim. Noct’s chest is still pressed to his back and holding him in place, but Prompto wiggles his hips, and shifts his weight, splaying his legs a bit wider, ass jutting back in a slutty invitation. “You’re talking too goddamn much, Noct.”

 

If Noct has some clever retort ready, he leaves it unsaid between them though. And Prompto finds he doesn’t particularly care, because Noct’s cockhead is nudging into him, slick and hot, and all he can do is sigh and rock back into it. Noct’s hips roll forward, slow, but steady, and Prompto’s own erection is aching and painful from the pressure of being trapped against the window. He tries to buck back, but Noct’s holding him still, one hand on his hip, the other pressed between his shoulderblades, and Prompto can’t get the leverage to thrust back.

 

“ _Noct,”_ Prompto groans, because he’s being split open excruciatingly slow, his ass clenching around Noct’s cock. And even when Noctis bottoms out, and Prompto feels his balls brushing against his ass, Noctis doesn’t move, not at first. It’s intense, has Prompto gasping and leaning his forehead heavily against the window, cock twitching and adding more of those sticky streaks to glass. He feels _too_ full, his rim stretched and burning, and there’s not enough pressure in the right places, just enough that he wants _more,_ wants Noctis to start fucking moving.

 

“Who’s the one talking now?” Noct’s voice is strained though, and he’s trembling a little, as his chin rests on Prompto’s shoulder. That’s all it takes though, because he shifts, hand splaying across Prompto’s back and _holding_ him down, and then Noct’s withdrawing almost entirely, before his hips slam back and he pounds into Prompto, burying to the hilt.

 

Prompto cries out; he can’t hold it back, and he’s pretty fucking sure he doesn’t want to. The force is brutal, and it’s just what he’s been craving, something rough and deep, splitting him open and giving him that friction he’s been goddamn craving. Noct’s cock is already sliding over his prostate with every thrust, and Prompto’s been worked up for far too long. His hands scrabble against the glass for purchase, and his cheek drags rough against the glass, sticky where his skin’s already flush with sweat and arousal. Noct’s hand is digging between his shoulderblades, and it’s almost painful, but all Prompto can focus on is the feeling of being split open, of those desperate presses into his prostate that send searing pleasure bursting through him. He’s hard, he needs to come, he _needs_ more.

 

“Please,” Prompto gasps out, eyes wild and unfocused, staring out through the window, though his breath has fogged it up, he’s panting so hard. He doesn’t know what he’s begging for, because Noct’s fucking into him hard and frantic, hitting all the right places, balls slapping against his ass as he buries all the way inside. His cock is aching, desperate for a bit of attention, and Prompto can wiggle his hips back just a little, not enough leverage to press back fully, the press of the glass against the head of his cock so much, too much, turning him into a throbbing, writhing, oversensitive mess.

 

“C’mon,” Noct’s voice is all heat, lips tracing over Prompto’s shoulder, teeth grazing his skin, and it makes Prompto cry out. He shifts them, finally pulls the hand away from Prompto’s shoulders to grip him firmly by the hips with one hand, his other still bracing against the window so hard the glass fucking creaks, and the change lets Prompto finally, fucking _finally,_ rock his ass back, clenching tight and needy and greedy around Noct’s cock.

 

That’s what does it. Prompto manages to shift, to adjust his weight, and it changes the angle _just_ enough that Noct’s erection is driving directly into his prostate. It’s all jolts of heat, something frenzied and blissful coursing through him, his muscles tightly-strung with it. Prompto realizes, eyes widening, pupils blown out, that he’s going to come, totally untouched. He tries to talk, to warn Noct, to say _anything,_ but all that comes out is a desperate keening noise, his face buried into the window, cheek smearing sweat all over the glass, as his cock twitches and jumps where it’s pressed between his tight belly and the glass. His orgasm explodes through him, vision going white, body tensing impossibly, every single cord and muscle in him pulled tight, and Prompto makes a total mess of the window, painting it white with thick spurts of his come, the remnants spattering across his belly as he sags against the glass. Vaguely, as he’s riding out the desperate, pleasant aftershocks, Prompto gasps out again as he feels Noct gripping at his hip, hard enough to hurt, spilling inside of him, hot and wet and heavy.

 

Noct’s laying kisses into the back of Prompto’s neck as he drifts back into reality. He can’t breathe, and the window is a mess of sweaty, greasy fingerprints, saliva from where he’s drooled all over the glass, and Prompto’s pretty sure there’s going to be a distinct Prompto-shaped mark from where his chest, his stomach, his cock and his thighs were trapped up against it.

 

“Think anyone saw us?” Prompto asks with a breathless laugh, as Noct slowly withdraws, making yet another mess as come drips out of him and runs down his thighs.

 

“Doubt it,” Noct’s still sounding properly breathless. He curls an arm around Prompto’s waist, half-supporting him as he drags him away from the window. Prompto’s legs tremble a little, and it’s hard to walk, but he’s only faintly sore, that familiar, pleasant burn reminding him of the fact that he just had a nice, deep fuck. Not like he could forget, but Prompto finds that he likes it.

 

“I’m gonna run us a bath,” Noctis says, releasing Prompto’s waist in favour of taking his hand and leading him into the bathroom, to sit at the edge of the very fancy, very deep whirlpool tub that he has. Prompto sighs out, and when the tub is full, the water so hot he can barely stand it – though Noctis seems to find it a perfect temperature – Prompto is happy to curl himself up in Noct’s lap and relax there.

 

“Seriously, though,” he says quietly, head tipped back against Noct’s shoulder as his boyfriend lazily works shampoo through his hair, “we gotta spend more time at your place, Noct. This is _so_ much better than my shit apartment.” Prompto’s place, after all, doesn’t have a tub that will easily fit two grown adults. Hell, it barely fits _Prompto._

 

Noctis pauses for a moment, though his fingers keep working, rubbing little circles into the base of Prompto’s neck, a little gesture that’s so goddamn relaxing, his mouth is hanging open a little and his eyes are shut. He’s properly blissed out, so ridiculously happy it should be illegal.

 

“I can make you a key,” Noctis says slowly, casually, though his voice hitches just a little, betraying him some. “If you want. I mean. There’s a door code, but I change it weekly, the key’s probably safer…”

 

Prompto wants to draw back, to get a good look into Noct’s eyes, but those damn hands have turned him into a boneless mess. So instead he sighs, lifting a hand to curl around Noct’s bicep and squeeze. “If… that’s okay,” he agrees slowly, “yeah, Noct. I’d like that.”

 

\----

 

The next morning starts out like any other morning. Well. Kinda. Prompto is waking up in Noct’s very nice bed again, after all. And the day promises to be _distinctly_ different from any other day. Prompto, however, is blissfully oblivious to that fact. Sure, his stomach does a little flip, but he still thinks his boyfriend is just a rich lawyer-type guy. And yeah, he’s going to a fancy party, but he thinks it’s just that, a low-key formal event, maybe to celebrate a new partner or a big case they’ve won, or an award, or  something.

 

If Prompto had opened Twitter, maybe he’d see that there was a movie premiere tonight (a film that is, notably, featuring rising star Noctis Caelum in a supporting role) that was trending already, and maybe that would’ve made him reassess his assumptions. He doesn’t though, because he’s crawling out of bed (after placing a few wet, lingering kisses over his boyfriend’s throat and chest) and throwing on a pair of Noct’s discarded sweatpants. Prompto’s pretty hungry. He also learned from Noctis, during idle chit-chat, that there’s a fancy gym in the building, and he needs to go for a run.

 

Prompto wanders down the hall into the living room area, and he almost fucking screams, because Ignis is sitting on the couch.

 

“Good morning,” Ignis says, ignoring Prompto’s shellshocked expression, “Noct told me you’re an early riser. Thank the gods, I don’t think I could deal with another lazy diva.”

 

“Uh. Good morning,” Prompto mumbles back, blinking and rubbing at his eyes. He’s very aware that he isn’t wearing a shirt, and he crosses his arms awkwardly over his chest. “Sorry. Why are you here? Should I go wake up Noctis?”

 

Ignis rolls his eyes. He points at the coffee table. “Let him sleep. He has nothing planned until later today. I picked up breakfast for you two. I was unsure of how you take your coffee, so I got you a latte.”

 

Prompto eagerly picks up the cup that Ignis is gesturing to, and takes a drink, and it doesn’t matter that it burns his tongue. It’s sweet and rich and delicious, and Prompto’s pretty sure it’s a very good coffee. He plops himself down on the couch next to Ignis and rifles through the bag, coming up with a breakfast sandwich.

 

“So. Why you here?” he asks again, his mouth stuffed full of croissant.

 

“For you,” Ignis rolls his eyes again when Prompto blinks owlishly. “Noctis, as I’m sure you’re aware, would rather avoid public attention. He asked me to take you to a spa for the morning. Noct will meet us later, so you can get your suit and your hair and makeup done.”  

 

“You don’t need to do that,” Prompto blushes, even though he’s immediately drawn to the idea. Okay, he’d much rather be doing all of this with Noctis. And Ignis is still a little bit terrifying. Prompto likes him, though. And he’s _definitely_ never been to a spa before. He’s also never had any sort of professional makeup done. He’s pretty good at doing it himself, but the thought of getting to try out a bunch of fancy products… yeah. He’s sold on the idea.

 

“Trust me, these nights can be stressful. Especially your first one,” Ignis says. Prompto blinks in confusion. He doesn’t follow. Ignis eyes his expression, and gives him a strange look. “No matter. Go get ready. You’ve a full day ahead of you.”

 

Prompto makes quick work of throwing on some of Noct’s clothes. He didn’t pack any of his own, but they’re a similar height, even though Prompto’s broader in the shoulders and narrower in the hips. It still fits well enough though. Ignis is waiting, busy on his phone when Prompto reemerges, and they’re on their way.

 

Prompto rambles on to Ignis about whatever random subject as they go to a very fancy, upscale spa. It turns out Ignis has an affinity for tea (and some expensive coffee from a place called Ebony) and has, in fact, frequented Prompto’s tea shop from time to time. He’s definitely not a regular, because Prompto doesn’t remember him, but he sees a lot of people and doesn’t remember most of them. And once they’re inside, he’s ushered away for a massage – which is honestly, apart from sex with Noctis, the best thing ever – and a whole bunch of other fancy stuff, facemasks and a manicure and a bunch of things that leave Prompto feeling very pampered, and very overwhelmed.

 

“You going to the premiere tonight, sweetie?” the lady attending to him asks.

 

“My boyfriend’s got a work party,” Prompto offers up, though he has to wonder if there’s some other thing going on tonight. Insomnia’s a big city, so of course, that makes sense.

 

“Well aren’t you lucky,” the woman agrees with a smile. She’s used to talking to people, of course, it’s part of the job description. “Honestly, I’d prefer it to those carpet events. Never been to one, obviously, but they seem pretty high-pressure, huh…?”

 

After several hours, with Prompto feeling very calm and relaxed and a little bit sleepy, they’re waiting for Noctis to show up. He’s running later, as usual.

 

“If you get nervous,” Ignis is saying, “remember to simply let Noctis do the talking. Some idiot will likely try to get you alone and interview you. I know that this can be overwhelming, so if you get separated from Noct, come find me.”

 

Prompto blinks. He doesn’t quite follow. Interviewed? “Uh, this is just like, a work thing, right? Noct’s coworkers can’t be that bad… I mean, what’s there to grill me about?”

 

Ignis has a strange look on his face, and Prompto doesn’t understand it. His eyes are narrowed (more than usual), and he’s giving Prompto a very… _piercing_ look, from behind the glasses. His jaw is clenched. “Noctis has talked to you about this, correct?”

 

“I mean, yeah,” Prompto shifts awkwardly, “I guess he didn’t go into specifics, but It’s a work party, right? I just dress up nice and meet all the people Noct works with and _shit,_ Iggy, the food’s gonna be amazing but I bet it’s so bad for me… I’m probably gonna have a drink or two, too… maybe some dancing…”

 

Ignis carefully places his palm over his face. “I don’t know what Noctis told you about all this, bu—“

 

Because of the increasingly ridiculous setting of the story, this is the moment that Noctis finally chooses to arrive. He waves as he approaches them where they’re waiting outside a little upscale café to catch a quick late lunch.

 

“Hey, Iggy. Babe,” Noctis smiles lazily, curling an arm around Prompto. “Damn. You smell good.”

 

Prompto laughs as Noct’s face buries into his neck, and he _swears_ people are watching them. The only reason the paparazzi isn’t closing in, really, is because there are better places to be. And well, Ignis’s death glare is keeping most people at bay, currently, though there’s definitely a few people who have perked up. Noct’s not trying to look super low-key for once.

 

“That fancy spa was _amazing,_ Noct, you should come next time.”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes. “Nobody is touching my back. I _hate_ being touched, Prom. You can go again, though, any time you want…”

 

Ignis is still giving them that strange look. His eyes meet with Noct’s and the two of them have a very silent, very frenzied sort of argument, followed by some vague hand gestures, but Prompto ignores all that, as they head inside for a quick meal.

 

Prompto kinda gets the feeling that there’s something going on between Noctis and Ignis through the meal, but he doesn’t really feel like getting involved. Probably a work thing, or whatever, and that’s none of his business. He rants on happily between bites of his salad about various things, about the spa, the _amazing_ massage he got – “the one _you_ gave me is still better though, Noct!” – and how he hopes that his fancy suit fits nicely. They’ve got to do that next, so after the food, they head back to the boutique from the day before to do that.

 

“Shit,” Noct says, when Prompto emerges from the fitting room, blushing and fiddling with his bowtie. “You look _perfect.”_

 

Prompto blushes brightly. The tuxedo really has been custom tailored, and even if he’s critical of his appearance sometimes, it accentuates his build well. Noctis steps closer, hands trailing up Prompto’s sides, smoothing out any invisible wrinkles, and the blush intensifies.

 

“Everyone’s gonna be wondering how the _hell_ I ended up with you,” Noctis laughs, fingers lingering on Prompto’s chest for a moment, barely any distance between them, as he works his way up to carefully fix Prompto’s bowtie, tipping his head, ensuring that it’s straight. “Still trying to figure that out myself.”

 

“Like that’s even a question,” Prompto teases, a little weakly. He feels _good,_ but there’s still no denying just how out of place he is. “So. This is probably a dumb thing to ask, but this is totally a rental, right? You’re not buying me a super fancy tux right?”

 

“Totally a rental,” Noctis rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to Prompto’s lips. Prompto has a feeling that it’s not. He doesn’t know how much this thing costs, but it’s got to be a few grand, right? At least? (The reality: over double that. But that doesn’t matter, not really.)

 

“You two are going to be trending on social media,” the designer assures with a flourish. Prompto only laughs at the exaggeration, because yeah, he’s sure that _social media_ cares about his lawyer boyfriend’s dumb work party.

 

“Come on,” Noctis says when they’ve got Prompto’s tux carefully packed in a garment bag and are climbing into his car. Ignis has already left them to go get ready on his own. Ignis is the type who has to look impeccable, after all. “Hair and makeup next. Let’s get you camera-ready.”

 

“There’s _cameras_ there, Noctis…?” Prompto blushes a little. This party’s starting to sound a bit extravagant.

 

“Uh. Yeah. People are gonna want our picture, Prom, you’re my date,” Noctis frowns a little, and really, this is the _perfect_ moment for them to have a little chat. To ensure that they’re very clearly on the same page. And even though it’s only a couple of hours before Prompto gets thrown in front of the public eye at a fancy red carpet event, this whole situation can be salvaged with a five minute conversation. One where Prompto will probably be irritated that Noct has unintentionally let him assume a whole lot of things, but not an unfixable thing.

 

Of course, they don’t have the conversation. Noctis just rolls his eyes and squeezes Prompto’s hand, and he’s probably assuming that Prompto’s just joking around. Prompto really still just thinks he’s going to a big corporate party.

 

Hair and makeup goes uneventfully.

 

“Can you cover the freckles?” Prompto’s bemoaning at the makeup artist. She’s _emphasizing_ them, for fuck’s sake, and really, that’s the last thing he wants.

 

“Are you kidding? You know how many actors would _kill_ for those freckles? I have to paint them on so many people, darling, you have _no_ idea. Trust me, k? I do celebrity makeup _all_ the time.”

 

“I’m not a celebrity though,” Prompto pouts out.

 

“Dunno about that. You might be, after tonight.”

 

There’s a lot of signs. More than the usual ones, of course, but Prompto’s gone this far, and he’s committed to this fantasy world he’s created in his head, so he dismisses it as people being silly and trying to bolster his confidence. It’s kinda working. Because really, Prompto _is_ nervous. He feels like an imposter, with his hair styled perfectly in a way he can never _quite_ get it to sit at home on his own with his store-brand hair products. And even though the freckles are still standing out prominently against his cheekbones, he has to admit, he looks flawless. His makeup looks better than the stuff he sees on television, honestly.

 

“You ready?” Noctis asks, after it’s all done, and he’s changed back into his tuxedo.

 

Prompto tries to answer, but fuck, Noct takes his breath away. Noctis looks _good._ His makeup’s more subtle than Prompto’s is, but he’s definitely wearing some. His hair somehow still has that _just fallen out of bed_ quality to it, but really, the look suits Noctis. And he’s wearing a similar tux, expertly tailored, though Noct’s got goddamn hips that Prompto would kill for, and he wears the look like someone who’s used to it.

 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Prompto smiles, and he’s already being very careful not to smudge his makeup. He’s absolutely not prepared for this at all, but he thinks he is.

 

“Showtime then,” Noct says with a wink, and, well, shit hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to get this out yesterday but numi told me to sit on it for another day! i've got a good deal written in advance and the drama is killing me, pacing these updates....!! i try to update the day after i update my other fic, ludic, as a thank you to the people who are still sticking w/ that mess...! 
> 
> cliffhanger for you, sorry not sorry. 
> 
> fun fact: i spent HOURS looking at tuxedos and red carpet photos, and now targeted ads on every website ever are just spamming me with super expensive tuxedos, this is my burden, this is the price i pay.
> 
> i'm on tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest. numi is on twitter/tumblr @numinoceur . She is the heart and soul behind this fic, i do the wording on the screens but the story is as much her baby as mine. the end result is definitely a joint collaboration of our twisted minds - she screams w/ me over imessage for hours on end and she draws stuff to accompany the fic so go give her love too!!


	11. Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto has a very shitty night.

It all starts out okay. That’s really the summary of their entire relationship, right there. But this particular night, after all the preparation, starts with the two of them getting into the goddamn limo that’s pulled up to get them.

 

“Kinda overkill, don’t you think?” Prompto’s wide-eyed already as he climbs into the back of the limo. Even though he’s been unknowingly dating a celebrity for a few months now at this point, he hasn’t been in a limo before. Honestly, it’s because Noctis hates them. But this type of event, they’re a necessary evil.

 

“Everyone else is gonna show up in one,” Noctis shrugs, “believe it or not, I don’t really like to stand out too much.” It’s an ironic statement, really, given that Noctis drives a Maserati.

 

Prompto thinks everyone involved in this night has way too much money. He really has _no_ idea of just how accurate that thought, at least, really is.

 

He’s okay on the ride over, though. They lounge back in the comfortable leather seats, Noct’s hand on Prompto’s thigh, and Prompto’s head tipped against his boyfriend’s shoulder. They don’t talk a lot, and naturally, that just means that their last chance to actually resolve all this in a quiet, private way, is completely passed over. Really though, it’s hard to blame either of them. As far as Noct’s concerned, Prompto knows what’s going on. And on Prompto’s end, he’s never been part of _anything_ really fancy. His boyfriend’s been pampering him for months now, but he has no idea what a top-end socialite party entails. He certainly doesn’t realize what he’s getting himself into. Really, the party hasn’t even started and Prompto’s already overwhelmed and exhausted.

 

But. Okay. Maybe a bit of it is Prompto’s fault. Maybe a lot of it is Noct’s fault.

 

The car pulls up, and through the tinted window, Prompto can see the flash of cameras, and a crowd of people. “Noctis,” he says, voice dazed, “where are we?”

 

“At the premiere,” Noctis blinks, “we gotta walk the carpet first. Come on, just smile and hold my hand, you look good, it’ll be fine.”

 

Prompto’s head is spinning. _Premiere?_ He’s tripping over the fact that this is _not_ the type of party he’d prepared himself for, but there’s no more time for thoughts, no time at all to properly assess the situation, because someone’s opening the limo door for them and Noct’s hand is curled tightly around his, pulling him out of the vehicle and into the lion’s den.

 

Prompto really should have been prepared for this. Because the signs have been there all along, haven’t they? It all hits him like a fucking brick wall to the face, in a split second. The weird hoodies and sunglasses and hats that Noctis wears around, all the while claiming that it’s a ‘fashion statement.’ The expensive clothing. The nice cars. The way people linger and _stare._ The photographers that always seem to be nearby. The friends Noctis keeps… all the money he throws around, _everything._

 

It hits Prompto just as his boyfriend’s got their hands tangled together, leading him down the red carpet. There’s cameras at every fucking angle, and bright lights exploding, making Prompto feel exposed and vulnerable and goddamn outright naked. Prompto’s seeing stars, he’s realizing he should’ve pressed harder about the freckles, because his makeup definitely isn’t covering them, and everyone’s staring, and— the panic is rising in his chest. It’s a heavy hand gripping at his heart, at his lungs. His chest is burning. He’s pretty sure the colour is rushing to his cheeks, and the more he tries to stop it, the worse it gets. He almost fucking trips over his feet. They aren’t working properly, and if he _trips and falls_ on the red carpet, fuck, he isn’t going to live this down. Even if he _doesn’t_ trip and fall, he’s not going to live this down.

  
What the fuck is this?

 

“Noct,” Prompto whispers, urgent and desperate, tugging at Noct’s hand frantically, “this is a _really_ bad dream, right?”

 

Noctis blinks, and he laughs a little, nudging them together. “Way to thank me for taking you to a red-carpet event. You’re a _natural_ at this, Prom, everyone’s staring at you.”

 

And, it appears that Prompto’s boyfriend somehow manages to know literally the absolute _worst_ thing imaginable to say. Because Prompto doesn’t know how he’s even breathing still. His chest still feels heavy, and it’s getting worse by the moment. His lungs feel like they’re filling with water. He’s having trouble breathing, and he knows, by now, his face is a colour it definitely shouldn’t be. There is absolutely a sudden, desperate panic rising. And normally Noct’s touches are soothing, normally a simple arm curled around his waist is enough to calm Prompto.

 

Right now, though? Noct’s wrapping an arm around his waist, and there’s the flash of cameras, and Noct’s voice in Prompto’s ear is saying, “just smile and let me lead,” and Prompto _hears_ the words, he really does, but it’s more of a distant buzz, and his mind just can’t process exactly what it all _means._ All he knows is that there are a lot of people staring. There are a _lot_ of people taking pictures. The tightness in his chest is expanding, and he smiles weakly, but his eyes are watering and he wants to scream. Or choke. Prompto can barely breathe.

 

It can’t get any worse though, right? That’s a small comforting thought, the tiny anchor that’s holding Prompto here, that’s keeping him from absolutely fucking losing it. He thinks, maybe, that he’s _mad._ His boyfriend’s not a fucking lawyer. Noctis _had_ said he was one, right? Prompto can’t even remember the exact conversation at the restaurant, but Prompto doesn’t think he’s that dumb, and Noct’s been leading him on. Later, he’ll be pissed. At the moment, he’s just trying not to burst into tears. Another camera flashes, and numbly, he’s putting on a fake smile, because the alternative is… well, there’s no other alternative.

 

Then Noctis gets tugged away by a group of reporters, and there’s screaming fangirls, and without Noct’s arm curled warm and safe and protective around his waist, it gets _so much worse._

 

Prompto freezes. He stares around with wide, frantic eyes. The smile fades away into an expression that’s a mixture of _lost puppy,_ and _outright panic._ The tightness in his chest explodes into a full-on vice that’s squeezing his lungs, and he feels burning hot. Suddenly, Prompto’s hyper-aware of every single fault. Every single little thing wrong with him. And more than that, he’s aware of just who the fuck he’s with. _Caelum._ He suddenly realizes who Noct’s dad is. Regis Caelum, the old actor from a couple of decades ago that Prompto crushed on when he was a teenager going through his old movie phase. Fuck, he was _in_ a movie that he and Cor watched a couple of weeks back. And Noctis. Noctis _fucking_ Caelum, famous actor and occasional model, trending hashtag on Twitter, movie star. Prompto’s been played for a complete fucking fool.

 

More than anything, Prompto suddenly feels very _small._ He’s humiliated. Noctis hasn’t told him a fucking thing, given him a damn clue, and now he’s dragged him here, what? To abandon him? No amount of makeup or hair product or fancy suit can change the fact that Prompto’s just a poor kid, with dead parents and no money and pretty much begging for tips to survive, before Noct entered the picture. He’s what, Noct’s charity case? A publicity stunt? What other reason is there for this relationship of theirs? A relationship that is very clearly built on a whole foundation of lies.

 

Prompto’s eyes are suddenly burning bright with a sudden wave of angry, panicked, horrible tears. Now he’s properly _pissed._ And _terrified._ There’s still people snapping photos. Somewhere nearby, Noct’s attempting to fend off a wave of reporters and fangirls, to get back to his boyfriend. Prompto doesn’t know that though, all he can wonder is what the hell Noctis is doing, bringing him here, to embarrass him publicly in front of everyone.

 

And so, that tightness clenching his chest, panic rushing through his mind and driving all reasonable thought so far away that it’s impossible to hold onto, Prompto turns and he absolutely _takes off,_ running past all the crowds, past people in glamorous dresses and fancy suits. He doesn’t know where he’s going, or what the hell he’s even going to do when he gets there, he just knows he needs to be as far away as he possibly can. Prompto needs to get away, and then he’ll lick his wounds and try to wrap his mind around the fact that apparently his entire relationship with Noctis is a sick fucking joke.

 

\---

 

Ignis is on high alert.

 

He’s well aware that this is a bad idea. There’s been a voice, a very reasonable voice, telling him for a while now that he needs to put a stop to this. Noct should have told Prompto _ages_ ago. And he’d _told_ Ignis he had. But it’d been glaringly obvious, from their encounter earlier that day, that Prompto’s still oblivious. Ignis doesn’t know if it’s miscommunication, or if Noctis outright lied to get him off his back, but whatever it is, he should’ve sat Prompto down. He should have had a very clear, solid discussion with him, consequences with Noctis be damned.

 

The problem is, Ignis doesn’t like to get too involved in Noct’s personal life. Noctis is an idiot. A loveable idiot, and Ignis is more than a small bit fond of him despite his flaws, but he really does do his best to keep out of his personal drama. And he hadn’t been _certain._ He’d had a very strong suspicion that something was off, but he hadn’t voiced it. He wishes now that he had. He should’ve simply had the conversation with Prompto earlier, and he’s kicking himself. Hindsight, after all, is twenty-twenty.

 

“Prompto is not going to react well to this,” Ignis voices his concerns to Gladio, voice low, as they survey the two stepping out of the limo. Even from a distance, he can see the way Prompto tenses up immediately, even though Noct’s seemingly oblivious to the fact. Ignis is ready to jump in, because he sees it coming a mile away. He’s realizing, immediately, that his gut was right. He should trust his instinct. He should _always_ trust his instincts.

 

“You’re the one who wanted to win the bet,” Gladio points out, “what was it you said? ‘I know Noct, he’ll get himself in over his head hiding the truth, and he’ll just end up dragging him to a red-carpet event’? Damn, Iggy, I should know better than to bet against you… I owe you what, five thousand now?”

 

“Something like that,” Ignis agrees, but he’s frowning. They’d had that bet going, yes. And Ignis had predicted that this is how it was going to go down. He absolutely _hadn’t_ expected to win it tonight, though. He’d given up on that silly little bet they’d had ages ago, when it’d become apparent that the two idiots were clearly in love. Ignis hasn’t seen Noct this happy before. He doesn’t think Noctis has _ever_ been in love, honestly. And he likes Prompto. He really does. Noct had promised he’d resolved the issue, and Ignis had trusted him.

 

“Noctis _said_ he told him,” Ignis shakes his head though.

 

“Well, Noct’s lying to us,” Gladio replies. Ignis doesn’t even know if that’s how this has happened. Noct’s _not_ a liar.  Like, it’s some elaborately messy miscommunication that’s gotten them here. And the end result is the same, in any case. They can obsess about the details later, Ignis needs to keep an eye on this situation before it explodes into outright disaster.

 

Ignis swears quietly though, as a flock of reporters and photographers surround the pair. When the crowd parts enough for Ignis to get a good view again, he swears _again,_ because now it’s just Noctis, apparently caught by a reporter and being intensely interrogated, probably about the latest movie deal, or tonight’s premiere– or the new boyfriend he’s brazenly brought along, as a total surprise.

 

Whatever’s going on with Noctis, Ignis pushes that aside, because there’s absolutely _no sign_ of Prompto. Noctis can handle himself with reporters and cameras. He’s been doing it his whole life. As much as he hates it, he shifts into a different mindset in situations like this, and Ignis isn’t worried about him. Prompto, though... Ignis isn’t so sure. And he’s _gone._

 

“Gladio,” Ignis says, voice tight with a sudden rush of anxiety, “we have a problem.”

 

“Fuck,” Gladio realizes it almost at the same moment, “where the hell did Prompto go?”

 

\---

 

Prompto has _no idea_ where he’s going. If he’s in his right mind, he’d think to stop, to breathe deep and slow and get some air back into his overworked lungs. He’s run in a giant circle. There’s a lot of people in fancy clothing and he pushes and shoves his way past, nearly knocking a poor woman off her feet and earning a shout and a glare. He’s making a scene, acting like a total fucking idiot, and _that_ thought is just making it all so much worse. It’s a vicious cycle that Prompto’s trapped in, stuck in his head with all those bitter, mocking thoughts, and his body can’t keep up. All he can do is keep moving, keep running.

 

At some point, he pants and heaves his way up a staircase, into the mezzanine of the giant theatre that he’s apparently in.  There aren’t as many people up here as there were in the main hall. That’s the first real pang of relief that Prompto’s felt since he got here.

 

He’s sweaty, his hair stuck to his forehead, eyes watering heavily, makeup smudged. The fancy tux feels damp from perspiration. Prompto sees what he thinks is an employee, and he starts to approach – but fuck, he makes eye contact, and it becomes very quickly apparent that he doesn’t belong here, because there’s a hint of concern, maybe _fear_ in the attendant’s eyes. Truthfully, he probably looks like he’s deranged, or sick, or about to pass out. But it’s enough to remind Prompto that he really _doesn’t_ belong here. Noctis knows this. Noct’s been fucking messing with him all along.

 

He doesn’t know what to do, and Prompto doesn’t think there’s a way out from up here. There’s nobody he can ask, and he’s scared, and he just wants to run really, really far away. The thought of going back downstairs is even worse though. The thought of facing _Noctis,_ knowing what he knows now. Of facing Ignis, who clearly knew and didn’t tell him the truth, either. Prompto’s alone here. There’s nobody he can turn to. So he lowers his head, he keeps moving, and he’s vaguely aware of how much his chest aches. He can’t suck in air fast enough to calm his panicked thoughts, to get his heartrate to steady.

 

Honestly, Prompto feels like he’s going to pass out.

 

In a delirious moment of desperation, one where he’s pretty sure he _is_ going to collapse, he’s going to cause yet another scene, and he’ll be waking up in a hospital – or, if he’s lucky, his fucking grave – Prompt spots a restroom door.

 

It’s not the best idea he’s ever come up with, not by a long shot, but it’s definitely not the _worst._ Hell, the fact that anything’s getting through to him right now, when he’s panicked and crying and terrified, is a miracle on its own. Prompto wastes no time, darting into the bathroom, and finally a single thing has gone right today, because it’s blissfully empty. More than that, there’s a _lock_ on the door, and he slams the door behind him, slides the lock shut, and collapses onto the floor, the sobs bursting out angry and bitter and harsh enough to make his entire body shake and tremble. Prompto feels like a child again, bouncing to yet another foster home, with foster parents who fight constantly and scream at each other while he’s on the other side of a door, plugging his ears and doing his best to ignore the anger. He wants his _uncle_ right now, so badly he can scream. But he can’t think straight, can’t steady his fingers enough to fumble for his phone, so he simply stays there, collapsed back against the wall, crying.

 

He tucks his chin down, draws his knees up, and wraps his arms around tight, and tries to breathe, but the sobs just come out faster, harder, the panic settling in again, because now, the thought of _leaving_ this room is too goddamn much. He can stay here all night, Prompto decides, he has to. To hell with Noctis, to hell with the fact that he’s _in love_ with him.

 

Love’s stupid anyway, right? Prompto should’ve known better, to think that someone like Noctis would actually love him in the first place. It’s all been a giant fucking lie.

 

He’s doomed himself to stay here all evening, to hide until they kick him out of the place, after everyone’s left, and honestly, Prompto can think of worse things. Like seeing Noctis. Like thinking about what a lie all of this has been. And, maybe worst of all, seeing all those people, beautiful and well-dressed and knowing just how to smile and act and pose. Prompto’s not one of them. What the hell was Noct thinking, taking him here? _To laugh at you_ , his mind is screaming at him, and Prompto can't silence it.

 

There's a very good chance too that he'd stay like this, a sobbing, pathetic mess, but there's a knock on the door. It's enough to make Prompto hesitate, for his sobs to catch in his throat, but he ignores it, and buries his face down further. The fine fabric of the expensive tux Noct’s bought him is getting absolutely soiled with tears and snot and Prompto can't bring himself to care. Whoever is on the other side of the door, they’ll give up and leave, right? They probably just want to use the bathroom, and they can find another one.

 

The knock sounds again, louder and more insistent.

 

“Hey. Everything okay in there?” A feminine voice sounds through the door. Prompto freezes. There's someone talking to him. What the hell is he supposed to do?! He knows, instinctively, that he should go very silent and hope that the woman goes away. So, naturally, a particularly loud, violent sob heaves its way up his throat and makes Prompto’s chest ache and his eyes water and he chokes a little on the sound of it.

 

“Look,” the voice says, “you're the kid with the Caelum idiot, right? Believe it or not, I know what you're going through. I’m giving you five minutes to calm down and open the door. Don't test me though, I’ve got about a hundred pins in my hair and I know how to pick a lock. I’d rather you just let me in though. I’m a friend. _Promise._ ”

 

\---

 

“Any signs of him?” Ignis has a massive migraine forming. These events are always hell. An absolutely necessary sort of hell, but hell nonetheless. Keeping Noctis out of trouble usually isn't too bad - Ignis has managed to work out a system over the years - but adding Prompto into the mix? It's probably one of the worst ideas Ignis has allowed to pass, honestly. This bet with Gladio was not worth it. Keeping his nose clean and out of Noct’s business was a terrible idea here. And worse, Ignis can usually catch a certain model drinking her way quietly through the event at a quiet bar tucked aside in the corner, but no sign there. Not that he has time to drink currently--but the promise of some sort of afterparty? That's one hell of an appealing (and apparently hopeless) thought. It’s the one thought that’s been getting him through this mess of a situation, honestly.

 

“No sign,” Gladio frowns, and he's not bothering to mask the concern in his eyes. “Security said nobody’s left yet. He's gotta still be in here somewhere, Iggy.” Gladio heaves a sigh, and works a hand through his hair, “we fucked big time here, huh?”

 

“It's my fault; I was a fool,” Ignis sighs as well. There’s absolutely no way they can let Noct find out his boyfriend is missing -- there's a lot of needed publicity, and Ignis can't afford to be dealing with an outright scandal right now. Plus… Prompto. He feels terrible. The kid is out of his element, and he's a sweet kid, really, just scared and probably confused. And, most likely, Prompto feels horribly betrayed by everyone.

 

“Keep Noctis busy,” Ignis can't focus on that. Getting caught up on the emotional element will only make things worse. It's Ignis’s role to think clearly through all of this, and damage control is important right now. If Noct realizes his boyfriend’s missing, shit is going to hit the fan. “Make sure he does his interviews. Hell, find someone _else_ to talk to him. Once this hits social media, it’s going to be a giant mess.”

 

Gladio nods, “easy enough. Y’know how Noct gets when he’s stuck at these events.”

 

Ignis does know, and for once he’s grateful. Noctis hates publicity and being the center of attention - which, really, is counterintuitive to the job he has. But he manages to get into a certain mindset, his “professional” one, and that means he’ll be kept busy enough, locked away and busy with working the public image that’s so unlike his actual personality it’s startling.

 

“Text me if there’s any issues. Or if you spot him,” Ignis is already darting through the crowds though, carefully weaving his way through with an express look of purpose written across his face. He’s an expert at keeping calm and collected under pressure – he deals with Noctis, after all – but he is definitely uneasy. This is _not_ within the usual job description.

 

And finding someone in these crowds – especially someone who very likely does _not_ want to be found – seems something like a needle in a haystack. Within minutes, Ignis realizes that he’s very out of his element. He’s trying to think of how Prompto would think, but honestly, he doesn’t know the boy well enough to pinpoint exactly where he’ll go, and that’s half the problem.

 

Ignis’s phone rings. Goddamnit. He doesn’t _have_ time for this.

 

He pulls it open, and sees the caller’s name on the screen. _Goddamnit._

 

“Aranea,” Ignis says, as he swipes the screen and holds the phone to his ear, ducking into a corner, “I’d _love_ to chat, dear, but I’ve a bit of a—“

 

“I have your kid’s boyfriend,” Aranea cuts right to the chase, her voice clipped and rigid, “Iggy, I don’t know _what_ the fuck Noctis thinks he’s playing at, but he’s having a total meltdown. You wanna come get him?”

 

“Don’t move,” Ignis says, “where are you? Keep him there. I’m on my way.”

 

\---

 

Prompto isn’t sure what he’s thinking, but he unlocks the door. Maybe it’s the threat that this woman’s going to break in anyway, and he wants this to at least be his _own_ decision. Maybe it’s the fact that he can make out traces of sympathy, and hints of a _genuine_ irritation that isn’t directed specifically at him. Mostly, though, Prompto just doesn’t want to be alone. He also really doesn’t want to see Noctis. So, this is the best thing he can hope for.

 

His eyes go wide, red-rimmed and soaked with tears, as the woman comes in. She locks the door again behind her and kneels down in front of him. She’s _gorgeous._ More than that, he recognizes her.

 

“Y-you’re Aranea Highwind,” Prompto sniffs out, lifting his head from between his knees and gaping a little.

 

Prompto recognizes _her_ at least. She’s a famous model, and he’s definitely studied some of her photoshoots for one of his classes last semester. He’s read a few of her interviews, and he’d appreciated how down-to-earth she was, with a sarcastic, biting sense of humour, and a good deal of wit. She’s absolutely out of Prompto’s league, and she’s a bit terrifying, honestly. And she’s got her hair pulled back into little fancy criss-crossing braids, her bangs loose and brilliantly styled in a way that they curl messily to frame her face in a way that makes her look like she simply fell out of bed looking stunning.

 

More than that though, her eyes are soft in a way Prompto isn’t expecting, searching into him. It eases the panic just a touch, enough that he can offer up a pathetic little sniffle and the weakest of watery smiles.

 

“Not having a good night, huh?” Aranea says with a wry smile, “it’s overwhelming. They don’t really tell you that. As prepared as you think you are, the first one’s always a disaster.”

 

Prompto manages a quiet, bitter laugh. “Nobody told me I was going to walk the fucking _red carpet._ I…” and he knows it’ll sound pathetic, that it’ll just make this beautiful woman laugh at him, and that makes the panic rise thick and heavy in his chest again, and Prompto cuts the words off, a new, fresh wave of tears falling as he buries his face in his chest again.

 

Aranea sighs quietly. She runs a hand through his hair, and then settles herself down on the floor right next to him. There’s a wave of guilt, because she’s wearing a gorgeous, striking black dress, and even though this place is impeccably clean, it’s still a _floor_ they’re seated on.

 

“Hey. I’m an old pro at this, but I grew up a normal kid. First carpet I walked, some guy catcalled me and I jumped the barrier and tried to punch him in the face,” she laughs, and Prompto can’t help it, a little, soft giggle bubbles up wet and messy in his throat. “So, I almost got arrested. At least you aren’t dealing with _that.”_

 

“Everyone’s laughing at me,” Prompto manages to say, and he knows how pathetic his voice sounds, so he presses his forehead deeper into his knees. His foundation’s probably smearing all over the damn black pants. “I made an idiot of myself… I bet I’m the top hashtag on Twitter by now, huh?”

 

“Look,” Aranea carefully slides an arm around Prompto’s shoulders, and he stiffens, but leans into the touch. As panicked as he is, as much as his heart is thumping and he wants to disappear, to shrink into the floor and die, he’s craving some sort of human contact. He can’t help it. She’s warm and reassuring, and it eases him down, just a tiny, miniscule amount. “I’ve worked with Noctis before. His manager and I – I assume you know Ignis – are on, ah, _friendly_ terms. Noctis is an idiot, but he’s not cruel. This is… well, this is a giant fuck up, and I’m gonna chew him out for this. But it’s _not_ your fault. Social media will be more obsessed with Noctis anyway, that kid has the _worst_ fans.”

 

_Fans._ Noctis has _fans._

 

“Oh my god,” Prompto says in a rush, with a new wave of fresh tears, “all these _people_ kept coming up and talking to him when we were on dates, and I thought it was weird, but I had _no_ idea...”

 

It’s all coming together, of course. Every single goddamn little detail. All the preferential treatment Noctis seems to get. The interest he aroused everywhere they went. The money Noct throws around like it’s nothing. That day at the beach, the fucking _rumour_ that there was a celebrity…

 

“He’s been laughing at me all along,” Prompto can’t help it, and he knows his voice is a wobbling mess, he _knows_ he’s freaking out, having a total meltdown, but he doesn’t care, and he leans in, buries his face in Aranea’s chest, and sobs his heart out, until his throat burns and his eyes are stinging and it hurts to breathe. And even then, there’s still more of those wracking, soul deep sobs that make his whole body shake, until he’s coughing wetly and making a disgusting, sopping mess of poor Aranea’s dress.

 

It’s only when the sobs start to quell, that she draws away a little, and a perfectly manicured, bright red nail traces over Prompto’s sticky-wet jaw, tipping his head up. “Okay,” she says, and her voice is perfectly calm, despite the fact that she’s just been witness to a meltdown of epic proportions, “now that you’ve gotten that out. Think you can stand up for me, sweetheart? We can’t hide in here all night, as much as _I’d_ love to fucking avoid this entire circle jerk affair.”

 

“I’m _not_ going back out there,” Prompto manages, a fresh stab of panic rising in his chest.

 

“I’m putting you in a limo and sending you home,” Aranea replies, her eyes narrowing, “and Noctis can fucking learn a lesson from this, that he can’t just drop this on you. But we have to _leave_ here to get you home.”

 

Home. Prompto doesn’t want to go back to his apartment. But he does want to see his uncle, and _desperately._

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, and he takes Aranea’s hand as she stands gracefully, effortlessly, even in her fucking heels, and he lets her hoist him up. Prompto’s legs feel like jelly, and he has to brace himself against the sink as he wobbles a little.

 

“Sit,” Aranea instructs, and she’s taken on a commanding, almost clinical tone. It’s a bit harsh, but honestly, it’s what Prompto _needs._ It cuts through the panic that’s still gripping the edges of his mind. He’s being given a command. Someone is telling him what to _do,_ and he can respond to that. Somehow, it helps him regain control of his thoughts, of his actions, because Prompto doesn’t have to think, only act, and he’s not making the decision.

 

He perches on the edge of the sink, and Aranea grabs a handful of the fancy soft paper towels and carefully starts wiping at his face. Prompto twists at the waist, turning his head around, and he groans when he gets a good look at himself. It’s about as bad as he expected. Even with the fancy makeup that’s made to withstand stressful sweating, the constant flash of cameras and the heat of a place like this, there’s no makeup strong enough to withstand a good ugly crying session. His mascara’s smeared all down his face. His eyeliner’s streaked over his eyes, and he looks like a drowned raccoon. The foundation is blotted all over the place, and his face looks red and splotchy in some areas, caked and paled in others. The flush across his cheeks makes his freckles look worse.

 

“I’m a mess,” Prompto groans, as Aranea wipes the tears from under his eyes, and the towel comes back smeared with black.

 

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” Aranea winks. “Don’t worry. I’ve been to this theatre enough. I know how to get you out of here without too many people seeing.”

 

True to her word, she wets a paper towel and manages to get Prompto’s face at least cooled down to an acceptable level where he doesn’t feel like he’s going to burst into flames anymore. And Aranea’s nothing if not prepared, whipping out some coverup from somewhere in her dress – probably from her ample cleavage, Prompto realizes, with a newfound flush, one that’s not brought on by his meltdown – and carefully holding her hand to his face, frowning.

 

“Your skin tone’s not quite the same,” she sighs out, “but it’s better than nothing.”

 

Halfway through making Prompto look presentable again, there’s another knock on the door.

 

“Aranea? Prompto?”

 

It’s Ignis’s voice, and Prompto immediately tenses up. “I don’t want to see him,” he says quickly. “I don’t want to see Noctis.”

 

“You alone, Iggy?” Aranea calls through the door, “don’t think any of us are in the mood to deal with that idiot right now.”

 

“Noctis is busy wooing the public,” Ignis says in a careful voice, “Prompto, _apologies,_ Noctis promised he’d told you... I swear to you, I didn’t expect _this_ to happen.”

 

Prompto sighs heavily. He doesn’t know Ignis well, but he already knows he’s not going to go away. He knows that Ignis, if nothing else, is absolutely brutally persistent. “You can let him in. For a minute,” he tells Aranea, “but I wanna go home. I’m _not_ dealing with this.”

 

Aranea gives him a long, appraising look, before she shifts and unlocks the door. To Prompto’s credit, he takes a certain level of pleasure in noticing that Ignis looks properly ruffled. His bowtie is just the slightest bit crooked and his tuxedo is ruffled, his hair is _just_ out of place.

 

“Good lord, we’ve been trying to find you for a while now,” Ignis, also to his credit, doesn’t comment on just how fucking terrible Prompto knows he looks. He’s almost half-presentable, thanks to Aranea’s work, but there’s no getting around how puffy and swollen his eyes and nose are. There’s no hiding a good ugly cry, after all.

 

“Maybe if someone had thought to _tell_ me, I would’ve been okay,” Prompto shoots back, with a little hiccupping sob and a dark glare. He realizes, suddenly, that he’s not just panicking anymore. He’s _angry._ He’s fucking _pissed,_ and there’s still those little bubbles of panic squeezing harsh at his heart, and it’s a very strange combination.

 

“This is,” Ignis sighs, and places a hand over his face, “this is a mess. It’s a giant misunderstanding.”

 

“Misunderstanding or not,” Aranea says, and she’s offering Ignis a _look,_ one that’s not quite anger, but still something fierce and dangerous, “ _Everyone_ here owes Prompto an apology. Your boy fucked up, Ignis. _You_ fucked up. I’m sending you the bill for this dress. _And_ you’re paying my tab at the bar tonight.”

 

The dress. Prompto wails out, “oh my god I’ve _ruined_ your dress Aranea, I—“

 

“ _You_ didn’t ruin anything,” Aranea spins back around, and turns her attention back to Prompto, dabbing again at his face with a fresh paper towel, “these idiots who fucked around with your emotions ruined things. And _they_ will pay.”

 

“I’ll be at the bar,” Ignis sighs, “assuming I’m not dealing with Noct’s meltdown once he realizes Prompto’s gone.”

 

“He deserves a meltdown,” Prompto mutters under his breath. He’s finding it way easier to be _pissed._ It seems to ebb away some of the panic, seems to make him feel better about the whole situation, somehow. “I want to go home.”

 

Aranea lifts her hand away from Prompto’s face, and tips her head to the side, appraising. “It’s passable. We’ll sneak you out to a limo and get you home. You going to be okay, or do you want me to ride with you? I could use an excuse to get the fuck out of this place.”

 

“I’ll be okay,” Prompto sniffs. As nice as Aranea’s been – and really, she’s saved his ass here, and he’s aware of that – he just wants to get away from all of _this._ He wants his uncle, he realizes, with a tight jolt that goes right to his heart, makes him have to frantically blink away a fresh wave of harsh tears. Prompto wants to go _home._

\---

 

Aranea knows how to shield a person, and Prompto’s grateful for that. She’s not particularly tall, even in her heels, and she’s slim, but she commands a certain level of presence that’s just automatically intimidating. There’s a few curious glances their way, a few snapped photos that are unavoidable, but the reporters with microphones pointedly avoid them, and the few that do approach, Aranea bustles through them with a stony glare that discourages any future attempts. She’s gripping at Prompto’s arm with a hold that’s hard enough to bruise, and honestly, Prompto appreciates that, too. It’s uncomfortable and a bit painful, but it’s something to focus on.

 

She ducks into the limo with him when they get outside the theatre, into the first one she sees idling. “You waiting for someone?”

 

“Not anymore,” the driver says, twisting in his seat to get a good look at them. “You know how irritating waiting around in a place like this is?”

 

“Try being _inside,”_ Aranea laughs though, “take this kid home for me?”

 

“Sure,” the driver shrugs.

 

Aranea passes her phone to Prompto, and it’s open to a blank text screen. “Send yourself a text from my phone so you have my number. I want you to promise me _one_ thing, and then we’re even for me cleaning you up. You’re gonna text me and let me know when you’re safe at home. Got it?”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto says numbly, entering his number into the phone and sending a text that’s just a line of gibberish. He doesn’t have the energy to think of actual _words_ to say. “Okay.”

 

It’s only after Aranea lets herself out and heads back inside, and the limo is on the freeway, that Prompto finally starts to relax. He’s exhausted. He’s holding back, and a calm sort of numbness has washed over him, instead. The driver isn’t chatty, and Prompto’s appreciative of that. They’ve had one exchange, where he listed off his uncle’s address, and that’s it. Blissful silence, away from the flashing lights and the fancy clothes and the whirlwind of celebrities.

 

Prompto finds himself standing in front of his uncle’s apartment some time later. He doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate, just rings the bell and waits.

 

The door opens, and there’s a heavy moment’s silence. “Fuck. Prompto. What’s _wrong?_ Who do I have to kill? _”_ his uncle says, voice catching rough in his throat.

 

“I… can we talk about it later?”

 

The tears start again, as Cor holds the door open, gets an arm around him, and guides Prompto inside. He starts ugly sobbing again, for the second time this night, except at least now, he’s pressing his face into his uncle’s strong, comforting chest, and Prompto’s _never_ in his life been so appreciative to have him as he is right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this happened. yesssssss. ok, fun coincidence, this scene was planned out VERY EARLY ON. numi encouraged me to write it ages ago, and it was half-written pretty much since we started this fic. it was actually written RIGHT before aranea was announced as prompto's companion in his DLC, i believe. so we were like "FUCK YES" when that was announced. nice coincidence.
> 
> yeah, though, i got nothing... ludic's gotten better, if you wanna switch up your angst aftercare routine?? LOL. next few chapters gonna be rough. as always, thanks for reading. i've started editing the previous chapters to add in links to the companion artwork.
> 
> on tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest, numi is on tumblr/twitter @numinoceur. <3


	12. Crashing Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which none of Prompto's issues from the last chapter are resolved because hello, Noctis.

Noctis is feeling good. Well, as good as Noct ever feels during these events. They’ve become second-nature at this point, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he’d rather do his day job and then go home at the end of the day and just be _Noctis._

He’s kinda picked the wrong job for that though. Honestly, eventually, someday, Noct’s gonna retire, like his dad did. The problem is that he does genuinely enjoy the acting. He likes that part of it. The modelling and the promoting and advertising, all that other side stuff, he’s not so fond of. And this part, playing up the elite celebrity and going to these events, everyone with their best fake, dazzling smile, it gets under his skin.

 

But Prompto’s with him, and he’s finally figured out Noct’s secret, and honestly, that _helps._ They’ve been living in the shadows creating quiet rumours for a while. Noct’s got a certain reputation, and he’s vaguely aware of it, but he’s done with that. _This,_ whatever he’s got with Prompto, is something real. And they’re going to face an inevitable flurry of media attention, so might as well just have fun tonight, right?

 

They both look _good,_ Noctis decides with a final inspection in the mirror. He gives Prompto a quick little pep talk, the rundown of ‘stick with me, hold my hand, smile’ because it’s better to just throw yourself into it and adjust. Noct’s always been able to land on his feet, in this one specific area of his life, because he’s trash at all the other stuff. Prompto looks good. He looks better than good. Noct tips his head and inspects his boyfriend, and he really looks better than most of the guys who will be here.

 

“Noctis,” Prompto is saying when he drags him out of the limo and they make the walk down the carpet. “this is a really bad dream, right?” People are going crazy. They hadn’t expected Noctis to bring a date, though ever since those photos of the two of them had started circulating the internet, people had been salivating to get a real shot of Prompto. Somewhere along the walk, Noctis switches into business mode.

 

“Way to thank me for taking you to a red carpet event,” he teases, “You’re a _natural_ at this, Prom, look, everyone’s staring at you.” He gets an arm around Prompto’s waist and smiles brightly for the camera, leaning in for another whisper, “just smile and let me lead.”

 

Noctis is partially to blame for what happens next, and he’s horribly aware of this after it happens. He really should’ve realized that Prompto’s having a total meltdown. That he’s barely keeping his face straight, that he’s turning a strange colour and finding it hard to breathe and shaking. And if Noctis had properly realized that, he would’ve been rushing Prompto out of there, to a quiet space, to calm and reassure that this _isn’t_ how this was supposed to go down. It would’ve been a mess of a night, but everything would’ve been salvaged and resolved rather easily.

 

But at that moment, a reporter reaches and beckons him over. Noct tries to draw Prompto with him, but Prompto’s legs don’t work and they break apart for a moment. Noctis turns to go after him, but fuck, there’s suddenly six people around him, and they’re asking questions about the new film he just signed onto, and well, Noctis goes into autopilot at these events, because they annoy him so much.

 

“Yeah,” he finds himself answering a question, “we started filming already. No, I can’t disclose details, you _know_ that… look I-- ” but he’s cut off, interrupted by another question, “yeah, Ravus Nox is in that movie, too, that rivalry thing that people talk about is so overblown, we get along _fine,_ look I’m enjoying this but I really gotta get going-- _”_ but Noctis is boxed in, and Gladio’s not coming to his rescue the way he usually does. Instead, there’s just more increasingly gossipy questions, ones that Noctis ignores, trying to push his way past the swarm of reporters – “hey I’ve got to _get back_ to my date, y’know—“ and it’s a date that Noctis is realizing, quite suddenly, that he can’t quite spot anymore through the sea of people. He tries to work his way out expertly, but goddamnit _where_ is Gladio? Where’s Ignis, for that matter?

 

Most importantly – where the fuck is Prompto?

 

“Who’s the blond guy you brought tonight?!” a bossy female reporter interrupts the mundane questions. Noct’s still trying to escape. Noctis flushes. He actually, outright flushes.

 

“Like everyone hasn’t been speculating online for _months_ about that,” Noctis evades the answer, expertly, though, “and speaking of that, I think you guys have kept me from my date long enough, wouldn’t you? _Seriously._ ”

 

“Is it true he’s just an ordinary guy? No fame or money?” another reporter asks. Noct’s trying to duck away, but he pauses, just for a moment.

 

“He’s anything but ordinary. He’s perfect,” and then Noct quickly slips past the crowds, past the slew of fangirls that always seem to lurk these kind of events, and heads back into the theatre. It’s been what, fifteen minutes? Longer? Fuck. He has no idea where Prompto is, and Noctis feels the guilt quickly building in his gut. After all, he’d just promised that he’d stick by him. These first-time events can be an overwhelming flurry of emotion.

 

Gladio’s waiting for him, when he gets inside. Finally. Noctis is pissed that his goddamn _bodyguard_ left him alone out there to fend off the masses. But it doesn't matter. Now they can begin the night properly.

 

“Gladio,” Noctis says, relief evident in his voice as he adjusts his tux, “where’s Prompto?”

 

“With Iggy,” Gladio responds, and Noctis sighs again. More relief. Prompto’s in good hands then. “Director was looking for you. They’re doing a cast photo before the movie starts. Promotional crap. C’mon, let’s go.”

 

“It can wait,” Noctis starts to insist. Gladio’s grabbing him by the arm though, half-dragging Noctis along. “ _Gladio,_ fuck, what’s gotten into you—you know this is the _first_ time I’ve ever brought an actual date to one of these, right?”

 

“Yep,” Gladio says, “and you’re _technically_ at work, princess, so let’s get to work.”

 

Noctis frowns. He’s torn, because all he wants, _all_ he wants, more than anything, is to get back to Prompto. This event is important. It’s their first real public appearance. More than that, he wants his boyfriend to enjoy himself, and being apart is _really fucking terrifying,_ especially since Noct knows damn well how intimidating it can be. But he is at work. And he is promoting a goddamn movie.

 

Gladio’s acting weird, too. He seems brisk, his expression carefully masked. He seems _nervous_ and Gladio is not usually nervous.

 

“Gladio. Where’s Prompto?” Noctis says again, a little more  urgently, and his voice is taking on a tone that’s a little bit alarming, a bit higher pitched, all nerves and restless energy.

 

“He’s with Ignis, Noct, c’mon, you do realize my ass is on the line if you’re refusing to do your job, right?” Gladio’s losing patience with him, and gripping at his arm, and it hurts, and has Noct’s head spinning a little, half-panicked, half irritated, half unsure of what the hell all of this means.

 

Noctis tries to keep it together. He sighs, taking a deep breath. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and he’s surprised at how tight his features are. He looks something of a mess. He looks nervous. He feels fucking worse. He misses his boyfriend. He wants to put Prompto first, to call Ignis and find out where they are and to rush to Prompto’s side. But. Well. If Ignis is with him, Prompto’s in good hands, right?

 

“Fine. Let’s make it quick,” Noctis says, finally, agreeing with a heavy reluctance, and he lets Gladio drag him off to do a bunch of shit he doesn’t care about. He really just wants his boyfriend there with him.

 

After tonight, people will speculate about how Noctis Caelum and his date both mysteriously disappear part way through the night. Prompto’s side of this story has been told. He barely even made it inside. Noctis, however, made it through those initial interviews, despite his best efforts to escape. He made it through a series of photographs, where he was frantically looking over his shoulder, and fans will definitely be speculating in the near future about how shaken and impatient he looks.

 

He even made it to his assigned seat, where Gladio has promised that Ignis and Prompto are waiting for him. He’s starting to fidget and grumble, and he’s about to get up and leave, Gladio can fuck right off, when Ignis and Prompto are nowhere to be seen. He is, in fact, halfway out of his chair partway through the opening credits, finally insisting he’s going to go join Prompto, when Ignis finally slides into his seat next to him.

 

He’s alone.

 

“Iggy,” Noctis frowns, leaning in, trying to keep his voice low, “where the hell is Prompto?”

 

“Aranea Highwind took him home,” Ignis says back, carefully.

 

Noctis stiffens. He tips his head, and he gives Ignis a look, in the dim light. The world is crashing around him. This isn’t good. This is bad. It’s a fucking disaster. “What the fuck do you mean Aranea Highwind took him home?”

 

“I mean,” Ignis’s voice goes a few shades icier, “that your boyfriend had _no_ idea he was coming to an event like this, and he couldn’t handle the stress. I _told_ you Noctis, that you needed to prepare him, and you didn’t, and now your date is gone.”

 

“ _What?!”_ Noctis is outright disruptive, his voice rising alarmingly, and there’s several glares around him, because the movie is starting. “Ignis, I _told_ him, what are you talking about - why are we _here_?!”

 

Ignis had been playing damage control, but at this point, he’s just in need of a solid drink and maybe a good fuck, though the chances of the latter happening has decreased significantly, since Noctis has gone and pissed off the woman that Ignis occasionally tumbles around with. He’s gotten Noctis to the actual movie part of this event, gotten him through all the interviews and promotional materials, and that’s about as far as Ignis takes this. And even if he wanted to keep Noctis here, there’s no power on earth that could, at this point.

 

Before anyone can say anything else, Noctis gets up out of his seat and rushes down the aisle. They’re seated right on said aisle, at least. Ignis and Gladio exchange a look, and then they both follow.

 

It’s when they’re properly outside of the theatre, tucked in a little corner off to the side, by the bar, that Noctis spins around and glares wildly, “so nobody thought to come and get me when all this was going down?!”

 

Noct’s thoughts are racing. He’s so fucking angry he’s shaking, he’s an utter mess. More than that, Noctis is suddenly realizing that Prompto was having a bad time, and he hadn’t been there, and that makes him _the_ world’s shittiest boyfriend. Fuck.

 

Ignis shakes his head, and the look he offers Noctis is nothing short of disdainful. “Do you have _any_ idea how hard we had to work to clean up _your_ mess, Noctis? I don’t know what the hell you told that poor boy, but he was _terrified._ He was having a meltdown!”

 

“You fucked up, Noct,” Gladio agrees, and the look he offers Noctis is a bit kinder, but somehow, far more disappointed, and Noct’s head is spinning. His stomach is dropping in the pit of his stomach. Okay, so maybe he never sat down and explicitly discussed the details, but he’d assumed Prompto knew what he was in for. He’d assumed - _fuck_ , he’d assumed a lot, hadn’t he? He’d lied, and then he’d been dragged away the moment they’d arrived and….

 

“I told him… he knew… that _this_ is my stupid life,” Noctis tries to say, weakly. It can’t get much worse than this.

 

But it does.

 

“I was there and _you_ weren’t, Noctis,” a feminine voice drawls, and Noctis tenses, then immediately, his shoulders droop, as Aranea Highwind stalks over from the bar. She’s got a drink in hand, and she’s got thunder and lightning in her eyes. “That boy had _no_ business being here. What the hell were you thinking?!”

 

“I was _thinking_ that this would be okay!” Noctis tries to say. He’s got a hand running through his hair in a nervous gesture, “I thought you were with Prompto. Where is he?”

 

Aranea’s idea of a response, apparently, is to storm over. Her free hand reaches out, and her fingers dig into his fucking _ear_ of all things. There’s a deep jolt of pain, a deeper one of humiliation, as Aranea tugs at his ear, dragging him a good few steps forward, Noctis flailing and trying to push her away.

 

“The hell was that for?!” he groans out as Aranea releases him. Noctis feels properly shamed, his ear throbbing where her nails dug in. He’s pretty sure she’s given him some sort of new makeshift piercing to go with the ones he already has.

 

“ _That_ was for Prompto. I sent him home. He needs to get the fuck away from this nonsense. And from _you,”_ Aranea pauses to take a nice, stiff swig of her drink. Totally unladylike. She’s planning on getting piss-poor wasted and throwing the tab on Noct, and she’s definitely partway there. _“Nice_ way to perpetuate the stereotype, idiot. There’s no way he’ll want to go out with you ever again. Add him to the list of Noctis Caelum’s one-night conquests. I can see the tabloids screaming about it _already.”_

 

“I don’t—“ Noctis groans. He needs a fucking drink, too. More than that, he needs to see Prompto. Deep breaths. Aranea was the one with him, after all, and he’s trying to stay calm. Noctis doesn’t need to have a meltdown in the middle of a movie premiere. He’s sweating in his tux though, and he’s well aware that for once, he looks properly flustered. “He’s not a one-night stand, Aranea, I… he’s important, okay? So if I fucked up, I gotta fix it.”

 

“There’s no _if,_ you stupid child, you _did_ fuck up,” Aranea snaps back, “that boy was blubbering more than Ravus did when you stole that stupid ‘best actor’ nomination from him at the awards last year. It was a _mess._ And I had to clean it up.”

 

Noctis sighs. He looks to Ignis, and then Gladio, for backup, but neither of them are offering it. In fact, they’ve both shrunk back a little bit, content to let him face the fire totally alone. Really, Noctis deserves it, because even if it’s unintentional, he has kinda caused this whole mess.

 

“Thanks, Aranea,” he says, finally, “for taking care of him.”

 

“That’s a start,” Aranea seems at least partially satisfied with that. “It atones for my dress getting ruined. And for killing my buzz earlier. Doesn’t even begin to make up for the hell you’ve put your beloved boyfriend through. If I was the one you’d hurt that bad, I’d be dragging you into the back alley and kicking your face in. Lucky you, it’s up to Prompto to figure out what the fuck do you with you.”

 

That statement, somehow, is worse than the other ones. It’s the one that drives the whole situation home, for whatever reason. It reminds Noctis that, more than this woman scorned, the one person he’s wronged, more than anything, is Prompto. Somehow, Prompto’s gotten hurt from all of this, and it’s apparently his fault, and…

 

“By the way,” Aranea adds, and she’s just making it _so much worse,_ “he dropped this. Best you give it to him when you see him, huh?” she holds out a fist, and when Noctis tentatively – he’s half expecting her to punch him, honestly – reaches a hand out, it is very much a punch to the face in every other sense of the word, when he realizes he’s holding one of Prompto’s earrings. For some reason, that’s the moment that does him in, that drives the point home. He’s fucked up.

 

“Where did you…?” Noctis tries to ask.

 

“Found it stuck to my dress after I saw him off,” Aranea replies briskly. “Poor thing didn’t even realize it was missing. Neither did I, for that matter. Your idiot ass better be chasing after him to make this better, so give it to him, hm?”

 

There’s probably a million things Noctis could say here. There’s a million thoughts running through his mind, his panic level is increasing, he’s realizing very fast that this may be the worst thing he’s ever done. This may be what absolutely ruins the best thing Noct has ever had, too.

 

“Prompto,” Noctis says, quickly, “I’ve got to make this better with Prompto. I… _fuck,_ ” he’s turning in place, and even though he knows he should stay, that he’s only going to make the flurry of rumours that much worse by rushing out, Noct doesn’t care. He just _doesn’t_ fucking care, because this relationship is the most important thing, the best thing he’s ever had, and he needs to fix it. And for once, Ignis and Gladio don’t stop him, because he’s made such a mess of this situation, they’re both wiping their hands of it. Ignis will play damage control with the media, Gladio will make sure he ends up safe at home, but… the rest of it, that’s on Noctis.

 

Prompto isn’t answering his phone though. Noctis texts him, more than once. Phone calls go right to voicemail, too.

 

When he knocks at Prompto’s door, an hour and a half later (traffic is a mess getting out of downtown, and he took the first chance he got to ditch the limo, since he had to pass his apartment building on the way), Cindy answers, looking a bit sleepy and a whole lot pissed off.

 

“Where’s Prompto?” she says, instantly, accusatory, the sleep fading from her expression in an instant, “what the hell did ya do to that boy, Noctis Caelum?!”

 

Noctis groans for a number of reasons. First, because Prompto isn’t home. Second, because if _Cindy_ knows what happened, and doesn’t know where he is, that means that the information is on the internet. It’s public. Once again, everything’s blowing up in his face.

 

“I didn’t do anything,” he tries to insist. And then, Cindy leans in, and _slaps_ him across the face. Hard. Enough that Noct’s face snaps to the side as he stumbles back, a sudden, harsh jolt of pain making his eyes prick with streaking, burning tears. It’s going to leave a harsh, red handprint across his face. It’ll probably bruise, too.

 

“Bullshit, you fuckin’ dumbass,” Cindy drawls back, eyes flashing, “it’s _all_ over Twitter, you show up with your ‘latest flavor of the week’ and then you both storm out, alone, partway through. There’s a few pictures of _my boy,_ and he’s all sorts of a mess, y’hear? _And_ I can’t get in touch with him, I have no idea where he went! It’s _your_ fault!”

 

Noct’s eyes have gone wide and his face is somewhere between completely bloodlessly pale and all sorts of red angry splotches. There’s _photos?_ More than that, there’s rumours spreading that this is just something stupid, a fling of his? Now that Prompto knows, Noctis doesn’t know how to deal with it. He has no idea how to fix it, to make people stop talking, and now he’s inadvertently dragged Prompto into the social media crossfire, hasn’t he? Fuck.

 

“If he’s not here, he must be at his uncle’s,” Noctis says desperately. He doesn’t know the address. “Cindy, I swear to god, if you’re covering for him, and he’s here, that’s fine, I—I’ll go home, just… I need to know where he is.”

 

“He ain’t here, Noctis, you idiot,” Cindy glares, “and you better hope to fuckin’ god that he’s at his uncle’s. I’ve been covering for your dumb ass only ‘cuz your friends there made it very clear that I should stay outta it. It wasn’t my place to tell Prompto, and now he’s hurting and _I’m_ stuck feeling guilty about it! And I _thought_ ya knew better than to screw up this bad.”

 

“I didn’t mean to screw up,” Noctis tries to say, but the words are futile, because Cindy’s pissed, Prompto’s apparently pissed _and_ hurt, a horrible combination, Aranea’s pissed… even Ignis and Gladio don’t have his back. Noct’s beginning to realize the magnitude of his fuckup here, even beyond Prompto, beyond the scope of the relationship, and it’s really, really not good.

 

“Have a _good night,_ Noctis, hon,” Cindy says, “and ya better hope Prompto shows up in the mornin’.”

 

The door slams in Noct’s face, and he groans, and wracks his brain, wishing that he knew where Prompto’s uncle lived. He sits in his car in the parking lot for an hour, waiting, just in case Prompto comes back. He doesn’t. At some point, he gets a text from Ignis, saying that Aranea heard from Prompto, that he’s safe, and not to ask for any more information, because she’s still pissed off. That makes Noctis feel a _little_ better at least, knowing that Prompto isn’t alone, and that he’s okay.

 

Of course, then Noctis checks Twitter, and the things people are saying make it all a million times worse. The pictures of Aranea escorting Prompto out have hit social media. Pictures of her yelling at Noctis, too, have somehow made it online – nobody was even _around_ to witness that, what the hell? There’s a world of speculation about who Prompto is, about whether or not they’re _together,_ or if it’s the next line of Noct’s flings. And worse, the headlines, ‘Caelum’s first male conquest’, ‘Noctis Caelum experiments with sexuality,’ ‘Does this hint at an upcoming role in an LGBTQ film’ and worse, the homophobic trolls have started to chime in.

 

This is probably a mess Ignis can’t cover up. This is a giant disaster.

 

Noctis wants his boyfriend, but Prompto still is ignoring his texts and his calls.

 

“Hey,” Noctis says finally, leaving his second voicemail of the night, and the first utterly pathetic, apologetic one of many. (The first voicemail he’d left had been panicked, more than anything else.)

 

“So uh, that didn’t go too well. I’m sorry, Prom, I…. guess I owe you one hell of a date after this, huh? I guess… maybe we should’ve talked about it a little more. I swear I thought you knew what was up, I…”

 

There’s a good deal of stuttering and fumbling his way through the call. The beep sounds, and Noctis sighs, because he’s run out of time to record his message. He should probably re-record and sound a _whole_ lot more apologetic, but he simply hits the ‘send’ button on the message and hangs up his phone.

 

He sits there for a few more minutes, and his phone rings. Noctis jumps in his seat, frantically fumbling with his phone – it’s gotta be Prompto, right? – but his heart sinks when he looks at the screen. He doesn’t want to answer. Noctis sighs ignores the call. Thirty seconds later, it rings again. He sighs heavily and lifts his phone to his ear.

 

“Hey, dad.”

 

“So,” his father’s voice says on the other end, silky smooth and full of quiet, subdued rage, and a healthy dose of disappointment, “that was a royal fuckup, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

“Take it you watched the premiere,” Noctis sighs, a hand pressing over his face as he leans back in his seat. Of course his father watched the premiere. Noct’s dad is, honestly, a damn good father. He watches _everything_ Noctis does. He’s always been his biggest fan. And even though ultimately, Noct’s let Prompto down here, and he feels the worst about that, second-most, he’s let his dad down, too.

 

“I like Prompto,” his father’s voice is sharp, and Noct _knows_ he’s upset. He can hear it in every syllable. “I told you not to hurt that boy, Noctis. What the _hell_ were you thinking?”

 

What was he thinking? Honestly, Noctis was thinking that Prompto was okay with all of this. That they were finally on the same ground here, that they were going to have a perfect night. “I tried to tell him. I thought he _knew._ It was supposed to be a good night, dad!”

 

“A good night?! He’s already trending on Twitter, the poor boy. They’re calling him Cinderella, rushing out of the royal ball in a hurry and nobody knows who he is…! Noct, get Ignis on this. You need to do damage control before you _ruin_ that poor kid’s life. He’s not used to this, he doesn’t know how to _handle_ this pressure. And he’s so sweet, too, damnit, I told you, he’s going to be my future son-in-law—“

 

“I know, dad,” Noctis grumbles and sighs heavily right into the phone. “I know, okay? This isn’t exactly how it was supposed to go. I have _no_ idea where he is, and he’s not talking to me, and I have _no_ clue how to fix it. I’m sorry.”

 

There’s silence on the phone for a good, long moment. Noct wonders if his father’s fed up and hung up on him, and honestly, he wouldn’t blame him. But no, his dad talks, and Noctis feels his heart dropping a little deeper into the pit of his stomach.

 

“You beg for forgiveness,” his father says, “and you _talk_ to him, when he’s ready. You’re working on his terms right now, I’ll bet you Prompto is _not_ happy with you right now….”

 

Beg for forgiveness. Noctis supposes that’s really all he can do.

 

For now though, Noctis goes home, because where the hell else can he go? He goes home, and he crawls into his bed, and he’d really been expecting to bring Prompto back home with him after the premiere. He doesn’t really do afterparties, anyway, and Noct had been _certain_ they’d both be in the mood for some good, passionate sex to end the night.

 

Instead, he’s lying on his side, staring out at the nighttime skyline, all dark buildings against a sky that’s a dim orange, even in the middle of the night, from light pollution. There’s little pinpricks of light and the city is still alive with other people going about their business, couples who are leaving bars together, hand in hand, hailing an uber down to take them home. And Noctis is alone. He’s got his fingers closed around the earring that Prompto had left behind, because right now, that’s all he has.

 

Halfway across the city, Prompto’s fallen into a fitful sleep, cheeks tear-stained, and the whole world is falling apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Numi and I knew early on that we wanted to give Noct's POV of this chapter. That Noctis was going to face backlash from literally everyone in his fucking life for this. And I mean... is it deserved? well some people will be like "omg no" but honestly I was surprised at how many people were REALLY REALLY MAD at noct last chapter. <3
> 
> I mean this also could be because I've got the next several chapters written at this point and i am in the KNOW..... but yes. as always. next chapter will be back to prompto and The Aftermath. I'm excited. I'm gleeful.
> 
> on tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest . Numi is on twitter/tumblr @numinoceur. pls come scream at me/us. <3


	13. Cinderella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto gets a taste of how awful social media can be.

Prompto doesn’t remember falling asleep. He remembers his uncle saying, “who the fuck do I have to kill?” immediately followed by “I am going to kill Noctis Caelum.” He remembers his uncle getting him a drink and some clothes to wear that isn’t his fancy tuxedo. Prompto remembers staring vaguely at his reflection in the mirror, because he cries himself silly and ruins any salvaging Aranea’s possibly managed to magic up. He should take a bath, should _eat_ something, but instead he just leaves the pile of fancy clothing on the floor and changes into a pair of Cor’s old sweatpants. He has to roll the bottom hem up and tie drawstrings tight around the waistband, but it’s _way_ better than being dressed in those stupid fancy clothes that stupid Noctis bought him for that stupid party. He manages a text to Aranea, a quick ‘thanks, I made it home’ and then Prompto shuts his phone off. He’s not dealing with that shit.

 

As he stares at himself in the mirror, he realizes one of his earrings fell out. Prodding at the empty hole, Prompto sighs. He _liked_ that particular earring, damnit. Just another casualty from tonight, along with his dignity, self-worth, and general happiness.

 

He ends up in Cor’s bed, and despite protests that the couch is fine, his uncle insists, so eventually Prompto relents. He sips at some water, and tries to nibble on some toast, but it’s a lost cause. It all feels like it’s going to come back up anyway. At some point, Cor just relents to telling him old stories – war stories, boring old ones that Prompto’s heard a million times – but his uncle’s voice is soothing. At some point, he passes out, and he sleeps longer than he’s slept in a long time.

 

When Prompto wakes up in the morning, in a bed that’s not his own, there’s a heavy moment of confusion. There’s the thought that he had a _really_ weird nightmare.

 

Then he realizes it’s not a nightmare. That all happened.

 

His phone is blowing up when Prompto sucks it up and turns it on.

 

He has fourteen missed text messages from Noctis. Four from Cindy. One from Aranea. He has six voice mails, and undoubtedly countless missed phone calls. First, Prompto responds to Cindy, because she absolutely deserves his attention here, since he didn’t come home last night. Then he texts Aranea again, thanking her for her help the night before. There’s a sort of deadly calm coming over Prompto. It’s dangerous and terrifying, how steady he is as he very pointedly ignores Noct’s text messages and calls and doesn’t bother to listen to the voicemails. In fact, he deletes them before curiosity can get the better of him.

 

Prompto rummages through Cor’s fridge and comes up with a bowl of oatmeal and a banana. He brews a cup of coffee. He sits down. He’s starving, at least. So that’s a plus.

 

And then the curiosity of the situation gets the better of him. Prompto doesn’t use Twitter very often, but he has the app installed on his phone. His fingers are itching. He opens it, and hits the little search icon.

 

Under the trending hashtags, #NoctisCaelum, followed immediately by #RLCinderella. Prompto groans. He doesn’t want to read, but of course, he does.

 

_‘he went home alone, guess #noctiscaelum isn’t rly gay???’_

_‘does #noctiscaelum is gay lol’_

_‘but who was the cute blonde? #RLcinderella IMO’_

_‘they’ve been dating 4 ages, guess they broke up??? #noctiscaelum #RLcinderella’_

_‘where’s the glass slipper tho? #RLcinderella’_

 

Prompto grumbles and groans. He shouldn’t do anything. He really shouldn’t. His account is a ghost anyway. It only exists to pimp out his photography Instagram – also a dead, ghost of an account. Just in case he ever makes it big.

 

_‘#RLCinderella ? Does that make #NoctisCaelum the wicked stepmom? Cuz the Noctis I know is an asshole and a liar. def not prince charming'_

Prompto really shouldn’t have typed anything. And really, he’s exhausted and stupid. Not his best work. It’s a pretty dumb tweet, all things considered. But he posts it anyway, and then angrily throws his phone down. If he was in a better mindset, with half his wits about him – or if this wasn’t the ridiculous, overexaggerated situation that it is to begin with - he’d realize that his Twitter profile picture was a cheesy selfie of himself. Or that it linked to his Instagram, which had _just_ enough personal info on it – pictures from the tea shop, a couple of the shots from Noct’s apartment, and so on – to make it obvious of exactly who he is, for someone dedicated enough.

 

Has it been mentioned before that Prompto’s now-ex-boyfriend is a celebrity? A cute young movie star with _really_ rabid fans, at that. Just in case it’s been forgotten.

 

Unfortunately for him, Prompto’s too pissed off and grumpy and _heartbroken_ to ponder on any of those important little details. And he really doesn’t have any concept of just how thirsty Noct’s fangirls are, playing armchair detective and trying to hunt down just _who_ the mysterious blonde is.

 

Prompto knows he needs to go home eventually. He still waits for his uncle to come home though, before he even considers it. Partially, of course, because he needs to bum a ride. He could call an Uber, but he doesn’t really want to talk to any strangers right now.  So instead, Prompto turns the television on, and of course, any of the local news stations are gossiping about _him._ It must’ve been a slow day.

 

“People are turning this into a gay thing,” one of the stupid gossipy hosts is saying on whatever trashy daytime TV show is running. It’s one of those typical ones, where they’re sitting around a table and running their mouths. “Why is this a gay thing? Bisexuality is a thing, you know.”

 

“His reputation, though,” the other interrupts, “he’s dated what, at least fifteen women?”

 

“Well only _three_ of those relationships are confirmed—“ another interrupts.

 

“Probably a publicity stunt,” says the second host. “Trying to appeal to a broader—“

 

Prompto flips the television off. He flops down dramatically on the couch. He wants to cry. He wants some ice cream.

 

His uncle comes a little bit later. Cor looks startled to see him up and about. “Hey. Sorry. You were totally passed out. Was at the gym.”

 

“It’s fine,” Prompto sniffs out. He’s staring at his phone again. He’s pointedly avoiding Twitter, but it’s inevitable that it’s headlining everywhere. Stupid shit, too. ‘ _Casanova Caelum conquers once more! Beautiful blonde’s tearful departure!’_ is currently his least favourite one. And it’s trending, too, because some asshole managed to snap a blurry, practically unusable shot of his mess of a face, half-shielded behind Aranea as they’d made their departure. It makes Prompto’s stomach flip, because _of course_ there’s idiots who are profiting off of his shame and humiliation.

 

Another article, _‘Caelum’s viral marketing success’_ talks, for several pages, about the PR genius that is Ignis Scientia, apparently. It manages to capture, in great details, all the little dates the two of them have been spotted on. The chocobos (how is there even a picture of that?!), their beach date, the two of them spotted at the restaurant, in clothing boutiques… an air of mystery to the whole thing. And of course, all of it culminating in the grand finale, the ‘dramatic explosion’ at the movie premiere that’s blown up on the internet.  Noctis is trending everywhere. _‘The movie industry is cutthroat; all press coverage is good coverage’_ the article says, and Prompto grumbles and closes it out on his phone.

 

So, it really was all a fucking publicity stunt. All a ploy. A giant attention-grabbing scam. Prompto should’ve known. He should have fucking known, because there is no way that Ignis, smug as he is, is anything less than a diabolical mastermind. And Noctis, Mr. New-Girlfriend-Every-Month is no better.

 

It makes him even fucking angrier at Noctis. And Ignis. And Gladio. All three of them can suck a big dick. Especially Noctis, though.

 

“How you makin’ out, kid?” Cor asks, heaving himself down on the couch next to Prompto. His hair’s wet. He clearly showered at the gym. Prompto can’t help it, and he vaults himself across the couch to settle down closer, outright curled up against his uncle.

 

“I’m really fucking mad,” Prompto admits, with a bitter laugh and a pang of shame that he hasn’t quite expected to surface up. “I… he lied to me. He let me think he was someone _totally_ different, and it’s all the internet is talking about. I’m a laughing stock, I—“ he breaks off, shakes his head, and Prompto hates that a rough, harsh sob is already bubbling up again. “I’m _such_ a fool. I had no _idea_ he was an actor! And now that it’s shoved in my face, of course he is! I’ve _seen_ his fucking movies!”

 

Cor heaves an arm around Prompto. It’s a bit awkward, but it’s nice to press his face up close and bury his cheek into his uncle’s shirt. “For what it’s worth, the name didn’t click with me, either,” he admits with a hoarse laugh of his own. “Regis Caelum. That’s his dad. One of my fuckin’ _favourites,_ kiddo.”

 

Prompto can only shake his head and press in close. “Met _him_ , too. Didn’t click. I’m so stupid, Uncle Cor, I’m just…”

 

The sobbing comes out. Again. Fuck. Long, angry, bitter sobs. Cor seems somewhat stiff, a little awkward, but he holds him through it, until Prompto’s sobbed all over his shirt and made a total mess of it. Again. That’s his life. Making messes.

 

“Sorry,” he chokes out, thickly, after a long while.

 

At that moment, the doorbell rings. Prompto groans, and Cor eyes it skeptically.

 

“That idiot know where I live?” he asks, a little harshly.

 

“No,” Prompto wracks his brain, frowning. “Don’t think so, at least. I never told him.” He’s pretty sure he hasn’t. This whole thing with his uncle happened recently, and the past week was a rush. It was a lot of Noctis being busy, and a lot of Prompto obsessing over the route their relationship was taking. Stupid, really, to think that he’d thought he was in _love._ It’s enough that he’s wiping angrily at his eyes, because he doesn’t want to burst into tears again.

 

Cor shrugs, and untangles himself from Prompto, who’s still sprawled over him. He hovers over the keyhole for a moment. Prompto’s turned himself around on the couch, chin resting on the back cushion, watching his uncle. “You know a hot girl, Prompto? Silver hair?”

 

Prompto blinks. “Aranea? How’d she find me?” A rush of panic follows. “… is she alone?”

 

“Looks it. Want me to let her in?”

 

“I can hear you two, you know,” Aranea says loudly from the other side of the door. “I’m not stupid enough to drag one of those idiot boys around, as much as I do _enjoy_ Ignis’s presence. It’s just me.”

 

Cor looks at Prompto with narrowed eyes, and Prompto shrugs and nods. “Let her in, I guess.” He sniffles and wipes at his eyes, and he has a feeling he doesn’t look a whole lot better today than he did yesterday.

 

Aranea looks beautiful, when she steps in. She looks much better in casual clothes, Prompto thinks, which is surprising in itself. Her hair is down, a little messy. She’s wearing tight jeans and knee-high boots with a stiletto heel and a long, loose scoop-neck, long sleeved shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

 

“Fuck, I’m hung over,” she says as she looks around. Her gaze hones in on Cor, who is offering up a skeptical, reproachful look, arms crossed over his chest. “Sorry. You’re the uncle, right? Aranea Highwind.”

 

“You’re the one who snuck my boy out last night,” Cor says, thoughtfully, before smiling a tight-lipped little smile, one that’s a bit intimidating, but Prompto recognizes it as something almost approving. He offers a hand out, and Aranea shakes it, and his eyes flash. Definitely approval.

 

“Nice handshake,” he says, and Aranea laughs.

 

“This industry will eat you alive, if you let it,” she tosses her head in Prompto’s direction, and nods. “Feeling better this morning, kid?”

 

“Was until I saw what the internet’s saying,” Prompto groans out, with a great, heaving sigh. He’s not crying anymore, at least. Quite the opposite, actually, because the rage is starting to bubble up again, now that he’s in Aranea’s presence. “How did you find me, anyway? Don’t tell me you’re stalking me.”

 

“Kind of, actually,” Aranea laughs a little. “The phone Noctis got you. It’s on his plan. Bet you didn’t know that you can sync two phones together, huh? I might have _borrowed_ his log-in information from Ignis and tracked your phone down. The GPS signal is actually horrifically accurate, pinpointed the apartment and all…”

 

Prompto groans. The phone. That’s right. “Give Noctis his phone back then. I don’t want it,” he reaches into his pocket and tugs his phone out. The lock screen is a selfie of him and Noctis making stupid faces. Prompto grumbles and shoves it back into his pocket.

 

“That’s between you two. I just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re doing okay,” Aranea saunters over, once it’s clear that Cor won’t shoot her on sight for doing so, and she perches on the edge of the couch next to Prompto, one thigh leaning up against the cushion. “Look. I’m not about to side with that idiot boy and his poor decisions, but the media’s going _crazy,_ Prompto. They’re saying a whole bunch of stupid stuff, that this was all a premeditated decision by Ign—“

 

“Well it was, wasn’t it?!”

 

Aranea probably isn’t the type of person who is used to being interrupted. There’s a brief flash of something crossing her face, anger, maybe? She composes herself quickly, though there’s a hard quality to her tone. “Noctis Caelum is an idiot. I will never defend what that idiot did to you. He isn’t malicious though. And Ignis is _certainly_ not – only loyal, to an extremely obvious fault. This exploded because a bunch of people on the internet have nothing better to do than stir up drama and profit on others’ misery.”

 

Prompto tries to think that over. All he can see, though, are the articles going on about this latest publicity stunt, the ‘oblivious boyfriend’ campaign, the photos of them on their dates, the apparent building excitement over social media over the past few months as they were trickle-fed little bits of Noctis’s new conquest. Fuck, he’s been turned into a ploy. No matter what Aranea says, Prompto can’t believe it.

 

“He’s not even gay,” he says with a shake of his head, the anger giving way to something else, to more of that bitter despair. “He isn’t _into_ guys.”

 

Aranea laughs. She outright barks it, and she reaches forward, grips Prompto’s shoulder and gives him a good, rough shake. “Oh, come on, you’re not _that_ deluded. That boy is the gayest thing I’ve _ever_ seen.”

 

Prompto doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know anymore. “I… please don’t tell him where I am, Aranea. And tell him to come get his stuff back,” he adds that part in as an afterthought, because fuck, he’s got a _lot_ of Noctis’s stuff. It’s all stuff he doesn’t want to fucking see ever again.

 

“You tell him that yourself. I’m not getting involved,” Aranea tips her head in his direction, and she squeezes Prompto’s shoulder, a little more gently this time, at least. “I do care about you, kid. You remind me of myself a little bit. And trust me, I definitely told Noctis off for you. Ignis too. Pretty sure he can still hear me screaming at him when he closes his eyes. Good. Still, I’m not your damn messenger. Text him and tell him everything you have to say, yourself. You have my number, if you need me. You’re gonna need some friends, and you can consider me one.” 

 

Aranea lifts herself up off the edge of the couch, and offers up a final, lingering glance. Cor waves her off – he’s been watching, silently, not feeling the need to intervene – and then she’s gone, a muttered ‘see ya Aranea’ falling from Prompto’s lips as she makes her leave.

  
“I like her,” Cor says, as Prompto collapses back onto the couch, more than a little overwhelmed by it all. “Definitely not girlfriend material, she’d eat you alive, Prompto. But… good to have someone like her. Watching your back and all.”

 

“Yeah,” Prompto says dully, “I guess I should go home, Uncle Cor. Think you can drive me? I… don’t exactly have a way to get there.”

 

“Yeah,” Cor offers Prompto a hand, and tugs him up off the couch, throwing an arm instantly around his shoulders, warm and protective. “Whatever you need. I’m here.”

 

Cor takes Prompto out for ice cream. It’s silly, and it feels like being a kid again. It’s just what Prompto needs, he decides. And he feels absolutely no shame leaning across the seat of his uncle’s pickup to rest his head on his shoulder as they drive back across town to Prompto’s little apartment.

 

\---

 

Prompto expects that he’ll throw himself into bed and cry when he finds himself back in the apartment. He doesn’t get the chance, though. Cindy throws a nervous fit the second he steps into the door. She’s ranting and raving and from what Prompto gathers, there had been a death threat or two from Ignis and Gladio about keeping Noct’s secret. Prompto can’t bring himself to be mad at Cindy, not the way she’s bitching on about what a shitty thing Noct’s done. She also slapped him in the face, which, Prompto has to admit, feels pretty good.

 

“Really. I am sorry,” Cindy says for the twentieth time as she’s sitting him down on the couch and drawing up blankets and getting them settled in. “I… ya know. We’re not super close, Prompto, and it didn’t feel right, getting’ into yer relationship drama. I woulda told you, if I’d realized what he was gonna drag you through…”

 

“It’s fine,” Prompto sighs. He should be pissed at her, he knows, but he doesn’t have the energy. “Just… how long did you know?”

 

“Early,” Cindy admits, handing over a bag of chips that Prompto accepts eagerly. “His buddies. Specs and Tattoos. They kinda gave me an earful about how _important_ it was to keep it secret. I got the feeling they were threatening me. ‘N I don’t care about myself so much, y’know, but my Paw does repair work for some families that are related to the Caelums, and I didn’t wanna hurt his business…”

 

And, of course, Prompto remembers the awkward exchange she’d had with Ignis and Gladio all that time ago – and it’s a slap in the face, like cold water being dumped over Prompto’s head. He was a fucking fool. The signs were all there. Worse. Ignis and Gladio were fucking _covering_ for Noctis, threatening Prompto’s friends, and that makes it so much worse. Objectively, it’s just a ridiculous series of events that were necessary to get them to this particular place in time, and that’s life, isn’t it? But Prompto isn’t exactly feeling objective about this particular situation.

 

“It’s fine,” Prompto says, quickly, “I… we should hang out more, Cindy. Think I’m gonna need it.”

 

“I’m here,” Cindy agrees.

 

They spend two hours watching a shitty reality TV show and binging on more junk food. The bag of chips is empty, and they’re into the ice cream. Prompto’s pretty sure he’s gained a few pounds in water weight. He’s also pretty sure he’s cried it all out, so somehow, in his mind, it’s all balanced out. The half-eaten, mostly-melted pint sits between them with two spoons stuck in the softening ice cream.

 

“Ya gonna be okay, sweetheart?” Cindy asks. She’s getting ready to head out. Prompto’s head is on Cindy’s shoulder, and she’s got an arm around him. He doesn’t want her to go, but what can he say, there?

 

“I’ll survive,” he says. And really, he will. It’s a back-and-forth, like the tides, between anger and depression, and the anger side is coming back. “I’ve got a whole bunch of shit to pack up,” Prompto admits, and he manages a laugh.

 

“You should keep the stuff,” Cindy says, as she carefully disentangles herself from Prompto and straightens, smoothing down the tiny pair of shorts she’s wearing. “Asshole deserves it, right? At least ya got some free shit out of this.”

 

“I don’t care about the stuff, Cindy. It’s never been about the stuff. I want that asshole out of my life,” Prompto sighs. Cindy tries to talk him out of it, but he’s determined. He’s on a mission. Once she’s out of the door, Prompto rummages through the apartment until he finds an empty box that’s been living in their closet for a while now, from when Cindy bought a new microwave a good six months back.

 

The closet is emptied. All the fancy clothes, gone, and Prompto doesn’t bother to think about how _empty_ it looks now. The brand new, wrinkled tuxedo is thrown in there too. There’s a pang of regret when Prompto fishes around under his bed to find his old phone, and it’s a good thing that he didn’t toss it altogether. He switches the SIM card back, and sighs when the phone doesn’t power on. He plugs it into the charger, and tosses the phone Noct bought him into the box, too.

 

And it’s scary, really, just how much of this stuff belongs to Noctis. Going through the bathroom, there’s some fancy new haircare product that his dumb ex-boyfriend bought him. There’s some makeup. There’s a few photos that Prompto took of the two of them, ones that he printed out and put in stupid frames, and they get thrown in, too.

 

There’s one photo in particular. He’d forgotten that he took it, and it’s sitting by Prompto’s computer when he notices it. It’s from the first night he spent in Noct’s apartment. The two of them, lying in bed together, all soft angles and muted light filtering in from those wide-open windows. Prompto’s fingers shake as he holds it up. He’s smiling, and Noct’s half-asleep, but smiling too, something raw and powerful, something that leaves Prompto trembling like a fucking leaf. Was this really a lie? It looks so sincere, it feels like there’s so much more between them that just a publicity stunt and a cry for attention.

 

Prompto has to look away. The tears are running down his face again, hot and salty and bitter. He crumples the photo up and tosses it on top of the box. When his phone powers on – still plugged into the charger, the battery swiftly refusing to move up past the 10% mark – Prompto sends a simple text. ‘come get ur shit. It’s outside my apt. if it’s not gone tonight I’m tossing it.’

 

The car keys get tucked into the side of the box. If someone wants to steal Noct’s fancy car, Prompto doesn’t really give a shit. They can have all of Noctis’s stupid false affection. He’s probably earned back everything he’s spent on Prompto, anyway, with all the stupid publicity he’s getting.

 

His phone goes off, and he worries that it’s a text from Noctis. He’ll delete it, of course, but Prompto’s relieved that it’s Luna, asking him if he can cover a last-minute shift at the tea shop because a coworker called in. Yes, yes he definitely can, because the thought of being alone in the apartment is daunting. Even worse is the idea of being alone while Noctis comes by to pick up his stuff.

 

Prompto replies to tell Luna that yeah, he’ll cover. He takes a shower, another one, and tries to make himself feel human again. He gets his apron – his spare one, as he realizes, with a groan, that he’s left one at Noct’s apartment – and he even does his hair and his makeup. Because Prompto is on point. He’s going to look _amazing,_ he’s decided, if he’s single again. And yeah, he’s back to wearing old t-shirts and torn jeans, but whatever. It’s a cool day, and Prompto hunches over, hoodie drawn up over his head, and gets ready to go.

 

He walks to work, because he’s not taking Noct’s car. The keys are gone. Prompto drops the heavy box full of stuff outside the door, and he tears his gaze away, refuses to be sad, as he makes his way out of his complex and down the street. He’s staring at the ground ahead of him, telling himself over and over again that everything is okay. He doesn’t notice the fancy car that’s driving the opposite way, turning into the complex behind him.

 

Work goes okay. It’s just him and Luna. Prompto likes it best when it’s the two of them.

 

“I swear, I _knew_ he looked familiar,” Luna says, when Prompto details his horrendous night. “He knows my brother. I never even made the connection, Prompto.”

 

Luna doesn’t ask about it, bless her fucking heart, even though she had to have seen it all over the news. She simply lets Prompto bring it up, and he rants angrily and bitterly between customers. She makes him a tea, one with a good deal of caffeine, and it combats the headache that Prompto’s nursing. He spills a few drinks down the front of his apron, too, but people seem to be understanding. The usuals give him long, lingering looks. A few seem like they want to comment, but Luna sweeps in, all smiles and deceptive sweetness, and Prompto’s grateful for the distraction.

 

A few hours in, after the early evening rush has ended, and they’re falling into the slow stretch before the shop closes up, the door chimes. Prompto’s fighting with his phone behind the counter. It’s dying. Again. It’s impossible. He’s going to have to suck it up and find a place to replace the battery for cheap.

 

Luna’s on break, because of course she is, because Prompto goes rigid and warning bells go off in his head as he looks up, and it’s Noctis standing in front of him.

 

“Hey,” Noctis says, uncertainly, shifting his weight a little, hands in his pocket.

 

“Go away, Noctis,” Prompto says, “get the hell out of here, dude, you can’t _do_ this, I work here.”

 

“Prompto,” Noct takes a slow, unsteady step forward. Prompto backs up. He absolutely can’t leave the storefront unmanned, but he also can’t fucking deal with this. He can’t see Noctis right now. Not like this. Prompto’s heart is pounding and his hands suddenly feel sweaty, balled into fists at his side as he slips his shitty old phone into his pocket. His eyes are narrowed, and he can’t meet Noct’s eyes, can’t stand to look at him, but Prompto sizes himself up as best as he can.

 

“No. Noctis, fuck, _no,”_ Prompto says in a rush, “we’re over. We’re _done,_ Noctis. I work here. I swear to god if you don’t go the hell away, I’ll end up getting myself fired, and then I won’t have a job, either. If you _really_ are that goddamn intent on ruining my life, yeah, go right ahead and stay, bu—“

 

“Prompto,” Noctis cuts him off, and that’s somehow so much worse. Noct’s frowning, he looks upset, and he’s leaning forward, hands placed flat on the counter. Prompto has to fight off the urge to shove him away. He has to fight the urge to run away even more. “Please, c’mon, just _talk_ to me, let me apologize.”

 

“Noctis. I’m _breaking up with you,_ ” Prompto reiterates, harsh, and the words are way louder than they should be. People can probably _hear_ him.

 

Luna certainly hears, because she pokes her head in from the back room. Her eyes are wide as she glances from Prompto to Noctis, back to Prompto again.

 

“Prom,” she says sweetly, “take a break. I’ll deal with the problematic customer.”

 

Relief floods through Prompto. Relief and a good deal of fucking anger, because _how dare_ Noctis come here, where he works. It’s a low fucking blow.

 

“I’m just on the way out,” Noctis says with a sigh, as Prompto ducks into the back room and throws off his apron.

 

“No,” Luna’s voice, loud and crystal clear, filters in, “we’re going to have a nice little chat, Noctis.”

 

Prompto throws his head down on the break room table and closes his eyes and blocks it all out. He doesn’t wanna know. He doesn’t cry though, and that’s important. The tears are there, brimming up, but he blinks them back, reminds himself that Noct’s invading his fucking personal life. That this isn’t okay.

 

“Thanks, Luna,” Prompto says later, after Noctis has left and she tells him it’s safe.

 

“He won’t come back in here,” Luna replies quietly, a hand resting on Prompto’s shoulder. “He’s… an idiot, Prompto. I don’t think he meant to hurt you. Doesn’t change the fact that he did, and it’s up to you if he gets another chance, but… he’s just _dumb._ Not mean.”

 

“It doesn’t change a thing,” Prompto insists, turning away, busying himself with the drink he’s brewing. “We’re done, Luna. It’s over.”

 

“That’s your call,” Luna agrees.

 

Things are okay. Then the last customers of the night come in. It’s a pair of young girls, probably in their late teens. They look nervous, giggling and wild eyed, and Prompto blinks from the other side of the counter. “Uh,” he says, a little awkwardly. He’s tired. He’s outright _exhausted._ He wants to go home. He wants to forget about Noctis. “Can I help you?”

 

“Oh my god,” the first girl, blonde and wide-eyed, says to the second one, “it’s him. It’s really _him.”_

 

“Holy shit, I can’t believe we found him!” the second one says, and the two are arm in arm, brimming with barely contained fangirl squealing.

 

“Excuse me? What?” Prompto scuffs his toe at the bottom corner of the counter. He runs a hand through his mussed hair. He’s blinking a little blearily. “Sorry? Are you ordering something?”

 

“You’re _Cinderella,”_ the blonde girls says, and she whips out her phone, leaning across the counter, getting all up in Prompto’s personal space, waving it at him. Prompto’s eyes widen, as he stares at the screen. It’s his stupid Twitter account. It’s that dumb, impulsive tweet he’d made earlier. It has… six thousand retweets? Even more likes? A whole boatload of comments. Oh fuck. Oh, fucking hell, no, this isn’t happening.

 

Luna steps in again, fucking bless her soul. “Look. Paying customers only, girls. If you aren’t ordering, you gotta go.”

 

The girls are flailing and giggling even as they make their way out. Prompto’s pretty sure they try to snap a photo, but Luna firmly plants herself in front of him, glaring as they retreat, and once they’re gone, she goes to the door to flip the sign to ‘closed’ and lock it behind her.

 

“Rule number one. You _have_ to stay off social media,” she says with a sigh, as Prompto leans against the counter, shaking, eyes wide and frantic thoughts rushing. Too late for that, of course. He’s been found. Already.

 

Later, when Prompto gets home, he blocks Noct’s number from his phone – after plugging it in, of course. There’s a missed text or two, but he doesn’t read them. He doesn’t want to open Twitter, but he does, with shaking fingers, and the notification screen has absolutely blown up.

 

He’s got seven thousand followers. A whole number of people mentioning him in messages. Prompto’s eyes as wide as fucking saucers, he drops his phone. Fuck. This is so, so much worse than he’d imagined it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm very sorry for the late update! I was on vacation over the past week. i had a good time, but i was way too busy to get any updates done. :C and then i got knocked on my ass for a bit with a stomach bug! i'm feeling a bit better now though, so we should be back to regular updating schedules! 
> 
> i'm on tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest. thank you for reading~!


	14. Team Noctis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis tries to fix things. He makes it so much worse.

It’s been about as shitty a day as possible for Noctis.

 

_Stay off the internet,_ is the first text message from Ignis, when Noctis finally wakes up, close to noon, _I’m trying to clean this mess up._

 

Noctis groans. Last night was a thing. That had happened. Prompto’s pissed at him, probably never gonna speak to him again. And the whole world knows.

 

He doesn’t bother to get up out of bed for a long time. In fact, the only reason he does get up at _all_ is because Ignis shows up at his apartment with lunch. He looks exhausted, frazzled, and somewhere between like he’s about to pass out, or have a nervous meltdown. Ignis normally looks polished, and well put together. Noct’s stomach sinks as he throws on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and makes his way out to the living room of his apartment and gets a good look at his friend.

 

“Please don’t lecture me again,” Noctis says. He feels horrible. Everything hurts, and he wants to go back to sleep. All he can keep thinking about, over and over again, is Prompto running off. His cheek is a little bruised from the slap. Noct’s quite certain he deserves it. He deserves _all_ of this.

 

“I’m not going to lecture you,” Ignis sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose as he hands over a sandwich and a bag of chips from the bag sitting on the coffee table. He’s normally pushing Noctis to eat healthier. Right now, though, it’s a lost cause.

 

“That’s a first,” Noctis makes no effort to actually eat his food. He stares down at his lap as Ignis sits down next to him on the couch, an extra-large coffee clasped in his hands. Ignis is a wreck. Noctis is one, too.

 

“… any word from Prompto?” Noctis asks, finally, after a heavy silence, one where he’s fidgeting with the paper wrapped around the sandwich. He’s been trying to contact his boyfriend (if they’re still boyfriends), and there’s been absolutely nothing but _silence._ No answer to his calls, texts ignored, and it’s driving Noctis absolutely insane. He wants, _needs_ to apologize, and Prompto isn’t giving him the chance…

 

Ignis shrugs, words carefully picked. “Aranea stopped in to see him. She said he is… _upset.”_

 

“For some reason, I bet he’s more than upset,” Noctis sighs. “Wait, Aranea? How’d she find him?”

 

Ignis shrugs. “She has her ways.” He is being very purposely evasive, and Noctis sees through it immediately.

 

“How much did she kick your ass last night after I left?” Noctis asks. He finally finishes unwrapping his sandwich and he tries to take a bite of it.

 

“A good deal,” Ignis admits. He draws a long sip of coffee from his cup, and sighs. “… Noctis. I owe you an apology. I am at fault here, just as much as you are. I knew something was wrong and I should have said something to Prompto.”

 

Noctis shakes his head. He has a headache. He probably needs to eat. He tries to nibble on the edge of his sandwich, and even though it’s from a place he likes, and Ignis has ordered his favourite, it tastes like sawdust in his mouth.

 

“It’s not your fault, Iggy. You guys were acting on my orders. I… I just wanted a relationship that was _normal,_ y’know? But… it’s all fucked up now. I don’t think he’s gonna forgive me. I don’t really blame him, either, honestly…”

 

“I’m supposed to be the smart one,” Ignis replies, after a moment’s silence. “I’ve made a number of grave miscalculations here. Noctis, I’m not sure if I can clean this up, but I’m going to try. _Please_ tell Prompto to lay low, if he’ll listen. I asked Aranea to, but she said she’s not getting in the middle of this.”

 

“You think he’ll listen to me? He’s ignored every single one of my texts, Iggy, I dunno _what_ to do…” Noctis sighs. He’s given up on eating the sandwich, and he opens the bag of chips instead, but he’s picking at those, too, not really eating them.

 

Ignis sighs. “I’ll come up with an action plan. The internet’s going insane, Noct, you’re going to have to make some statements, Good Morning Insomnia is already contacting me, I’m going to see about getting you on there…”

 

“No,” Noctis says, instantly, “absolutely not, Ignis. No.”

 

Ignis takes another drink of his coffee. “Noctis. Give Prompto time. Your reputation’s being run through the _mud_ right now, you need to trust me, we’ve got to turn all of this around. Trust me.”

 

Noctis sighs. “Whatever, Ignis. Do what you’re gonna do. Just... if you see him, tell him I’m sorry, okay? I _swear_ I did try to tell him…! I don’t know what he thought, but…” And really, Noct’s wracking his brain, still trying to figure out how all this went so damn wrong.  

 

“We’re both sorry, Noct,” Ignis replies, quiet. “We’ve all fucked up here.”

 

\---

 

Of course, during all this time, Prompto’s absolutely _not_ laying low. And even though one of Noct’s many apologetic text messages outlines that – Prompto doesn’t read them. Noctis assumes as much, when he doesn’t get a reply.

 

His phone chimes, later on. Noct’s dealing with this fallout in the best way he knows how to: he’s absolutely shutting down. He still hasn’t eaten. Ignis is doing what Ignis does best, and he’s trying to get a handle on the apparent social media explosion. He’s texting Noctis with appearances he’s going to make, with official statements he’s releasing. Noctis, honestly, doesn’t bother to read most of it, just texting back a ‘do what you want’ because he doesn’t care.

 

He’s going to have to go in front of the world and what? Say that he’s in love with Prompto? Apologize?

 

For once, Noctis is glad that he’s numb to the whole social media thing. He hasn’t even bothered to check. Gladio’s already called him to tell him he’s upping his security. Apparently Noct’s getting death threats. _Apparently,_ there’s a lot of homophobic assholes on the internet too, imagine that.

 

Whatever.

 

When Noct’s phone chimes the familiar ‘kweh!’ that symbolizes a text from Prompto, Noctis almost falls out of the bed. He rolls over, fumbles for his phone, and he’s both exhilarated and terrified to read what Prompto’s saying.

 

It’s a text to come get his stuff.

 

Noct’s stomach sinks. He wants to ask Ignis to go pick it up for him, but there’s always the _slight_ chance that Prompto will want to talk, that maybe, just maybe he’ll be receptive. He knows better, of course, but he’s still finally rolling out of bed, making his way to the shower to at least make himself look slightly presentable, instead of like the lazy asshole he is, having spent the entire fucking day moping in bed.

 

\---

 

The box of stuff outside of Prompto’s apartment is full. Noctis frowns as he stares down at its contents. The phone he’d bought Prompto – back at the _very_ beginning of their relationship – is in there. The keys are stuck halfway down the side of the box, and Noct realizes he’s gonna have to get Ignis and Gladio to come get the Maserati, since he drove one of his other cars over. Noctis thought, maybe, he’d be able to keep his shit together.

 

Of course, seeing the entire history of their relationship crammed into a box, it’s…

 

“Fuck,” Noctis says aloud. His eyes are watering as he stares down. There’s a lot of stuff.

 

Noct’s breath catches when he notices the crumpled photo that’s fallen to the side. He reaches down, fingers trembling a little, as he picks it up. It’s a recent one. Prompto had showed him the photo, but Noct hadn’t been aware that he’d gotten it printed out. They look _happy._ They look stupid, utterly crazy about each other, and so content.

 

He’s a fucking idiot. He’s so stupid. Prompto wouldn’t have cared at all, would he? If Noctis had just come clean from the beginning. In retrospect, it’s all Noct’s insecurities, his fears that Prompto was somebody he absolutely wasn’t. Noct doesn’t think there’s a selfish or manipulative bone in his boyfriend’s body, after all.

 

“I’m sorry, Prom,” Noct says. He’s glad nobody’s around. He smooths the photo down as best as he can, and tucks it into his coat pocket, and gathers up the box of stuff, throwing it in the back seat of his car.

 

If Noctis had been smart, he would’ve gone home. Instead, he sits in the parking lot for a while. He waits to see if maybe Prompto will come home. He debates a good deal of things he could do. Ignis confirms that he’s going on Good Morning Insomnia. Noctis _hates_ that fucking morning gossip show, but they’ve offered a lucrative deal and ‘people need to hear your side of the story, Noctis. You need to apologize’ Ignis keeps insisting. So, he agrees.

 

Ignis goes on about a social media plan, too. Noctis doesn’t care about the details. He misses Prompto. He’s miserable.

 

It’s the misery that spurs him into action. He finally leaves Prompto’s apartment complex, and it’s on a total, utter whim that has Noctis turning into the little shopping complex that houses the tea shop. It’s a bad idea. Noctis knows it is, before he even goes inside, but he’s _desperate._ There’s a good chance Prompto isn’t working, and maybe he can talk to Luna. She knows Prompto decently enough, after all, maybe she can give some insight…

 

Of course, it’s a terrible idea. Noctis knows it, and he freezes for a moment as he steps inside, as his eyes meet Prompto’s, and suddenly, Noct can’t think straight. All he can think is that he _needs_ to apologize, that they can work this out, that—

 

“Hey,” Noctis shifts awkwardly.

 

Prompto shuts down. Noctis should’ve known better. He knows that. He expects the harsh words, the way that Prompto immediately goes into the defensive. Noct can’t take his eyes away though. Even though he’s been through hell, Prompto still looks _good,_ his hair and makeup done, a few stains down the front of his apron, but otherwise dressed in a familiar old faded pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

 

“Go away, Noctis,” Prompto is saying, “get the hell out of here, dude. You can’t do this. I _work_ here.”

 

Noct’s realizing very quickly that this was _bad._ He should turn and leave. Ignis told him to give Prompto space, and Noct wants to, but _fuck,_ he wants to make the hurt go away. He sees it in Prompto’s eyes, the way he can’t quite meet his gaze. Prompto’s always worn his heart on his sleeve, and right now, Noctis is pretty sure his boyfriend looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

 

“Prompto,” Noctis tries to say. Prompto cuts him off though, with a quick, panicked rant, something that comes out too fast and jumbled for Noctis to even fully fucking understand, but he’s pretty sure he distinctly hears the words ‘we’re over’ and ‘go the hell away’ and ‘gonna get me fired’ and the panic is building up in Noct’s stomach.

 

No. Fuck. No, _no,_ this isn’t how this relationship ends, is it?

 

“Prompto,” Noctis finds himself saying, and he leans over the counter, close to Prompto. Noct’s voice is unsteady, and he’s outright begging, pleading, like a fucking desperate idiot. Hell, he _is_ a desperate idiot. “Please, c’mon, just talk to me, let me apologize…”

 

A lot of things happen.

 

“Noctis, I’m breaking up with you,” Prompto says the words, heavy and harsh, and they cut right through Noct. It goes all the way to his bones, reverberating there, and all Noctis can think is _no,_ he has to be able to fix this, he can’t run now, there has to be something—

 

“I’m just on the way out,” he says numbly, as Luna comes out to investigate, as Prompto retreats into the back room.

 

“No,” Luna replies, “we’re going to have a nice little chat, Noctis.”

 

Noct doesn’t want to be here. He’s barely holding it together. His heart is pounding out of his chest, and there’s the distinct realization that he’s probably going to lie numb and exhausted in bed as soon as he gets home. But Luna is giving him a _look,_ and it’s one that Noctis realizes isn’t entirely anger. She looks irritated, yes, but… there’s sympathy there.

 

Noctis doesn’t know how he feels about this. He thinks he should probably make his retreat as quickly as possible, but… fuck, he needs _help._ He needs advice. Ignis told him to stay away. Gladio rumbled off an apology but also told him off some because ‘we trusted you had this, Noct, we covered for you,’ in his typical Gladio way. Noctis hasn’t even _considered_ talking to Aranea yet, even though he knows she’s been in contact with Prompto. So…

 

“Tell me,” he says slowly, “how much did I fuck up? Is he _ever_ gonna forgive me?”

 

Luna makes a quiet noise, and she leans over the counter, looking thoughtful.

 

“Eventually,” she says, with a little smile playing across her lips, “I think he will, yes. But… you need to give him space, Noctis. Coming in here, while he’s at work? That’s a dick move. He can’t yell at you. He can’t leave. You’re the customer, there’s a total power imbalance. You’re acting like a total _idiot.”_  

 

Noctis groans. He runs a hand through his hair, and sighs “… that’s not what I intended, Luna. Honestly, I didn’t even think he’d be working, I just… I’m _sorry,_ you know? I needed to say that.”

 

“He’s not ready to hear it,” Luna points out. Then, there’s another pause, before she’s speaking again. “You know my brother. Ravus Nox.”

 

Noctis doesn’t have words for a moment. Of course he knows exactly who Luna’s brother is. They’ve been rivals for a long time, going back to some dumb role Noctis apparently stole when they were still _babies._ He tips his head to the side, looks Luna over—and yeah, he can _almost_ see the resemblance. “… shit, he’s your brother? Fuck, I bet you _really_ must hate me, huh?”

 

Luna laughs quietly. “No. My brother’s a drama queen. He’s worse than _you_ are. I only mention it because I understand how hard the fame is. I…” she sighs, and trails off, and her voice drops to a whisper, with a quick glance over her shoulder.

 

“Look,” Luna says, and she sounds more serious now, getting straight to the point in a very no-nonsense way. “I think I understand why you did what you did. And then you got stuck, right? Missed the opportunity to tell him, and now _this_ all happened.”

 

“I _tried_ to tell him—“ Noctis tries to insist, because he _did,_ and he still hasn’t figured out that bit of miscommunication. Noct’s not very smart, after all.

 

Luna waves him off. “ _Tried_ doesn’t mean anything, at this point, Noctis.” And. Well. She has a very good point there, Noctis has to admit it shuts him up, though, and Luna continues. “Point is. I think he’ll forgive you. Eventually. But you’re going to have to work for it. And for heavens’ sake, Noctis, leave the boy _alone_ for a while. Don’t come around while he’s _working,_ you think you’d want him busting in while you’re on set?”

 

“I mean, we have security on set…” Noctis starts to say, but he quickly shuts his mouth with the _look_ Luna gives him, the one that screams ‘exactly, you fucking idiot.’ Okay. So Luna _definitely_ has a point. Coming here? It was a bad idea. It’s totally made things worse. His heart hurts, and all Noctis can hear is the words, _I’m breaking up with you._ Luna’s trying to reassure, and Noctis wants to cling to the words, but…

 

“Give it time,” Luna says, again, more firmly. “Let him get over it… _then_ apologize, and beg for another chance. But I swear, Noctis Caelum, you come in here again and mess around with him, I’m _not_ going to play nice. Worse. I’ll call my brother to come deal with you. Got it?”

 

Noctis sighs, and he nods. He does get it.  Even though he’s groaning about the threat of having to deal with Luna’s horribly overdramatic, irritating brother, he’s still appreciative, on some level. Luna’s kindness, it’s the first bit he’s been shown over this whole affair, even if it’s tough love. “… I guess I should thank you, huh? For the advice?”

 

Luna laughs. “I’m doing it for Prompto. Even if you fucked up… you’re good to him, Noctis. And he _really_ likes you. Trust in that, okay?” she pauses, and then, “I’ll make you a drink for the road at least. Since you tip so well.”

 

Noctis makes sure to leave an extra large tip, and Luna promises to split it with Prompto. So at least there’s _that._ Still, sitting back in his car in the parking lot, a drink in his hands that Noct’s stomach is too upset to actually drink, all he can do is stare at that stupid picture that Prompto threw away, like it was nothing.

 

All those memories – are they really _nothing_ now?

 

Noctis has really, really fucked up here.

\---

 

Noctis can’t believe he’s doing this. Why the _fuck_ did he agree to go on another one of those shitty talk shows? Let alone _Good Morning Insomnia,_ arguably one of the worst ones. He hates the host. Noctis thinks he might hate him even _more_ than he hates Ravus. Why is he doing this again? This stupid show is aimed at stay at home moms and bratty teenage fangirls, so why?

 

Oh, right, because that’s half of his fanbase, and the internet is currently eating him alive.

 

It’s early, _way_ earlier than Noctis intended to be awake. He’s sitting with a coffee that he isn’t drinking in his hands, and Ignis is rattling off instructions as they sit in the dressing room. His makeup’s been done, and the makeup artist just _had_ to comment on how much work it took to cover the dark shadows under his eyes. Awesome.

 

“Go over it with me _again,_ ” Ignis is saying. “Noctis. You need to focus here. You _know_ what Dino is like, he’ll eat you alive if you aren’t prepared.”

 

Noctis groans and he gives Ignis a _look._ “Dude, Iggy, _chill._ I can handle Dino. He’s tried to get under my skin before. He’s a slimeball.” Realistically, Noct’s gone over the script Ignis has given him. It… sounds dry, though. It’s apologetic, yeah, but it’s not nearly as sincere as Noctis had been hoping. Objectively, it’s a very safe move, very to the point, and it focuses on fact, and a whole lot of ‘please respect our privacy while we sort things out’ type statements. Realistically, though, Noctis is nursing a broken heart, it’s only been a couple of days, but he’s been moping in bed and going through the motions of a particularly harsh breakup. Noctis is a mess.

 

“Noctis, you’re an _actor,_ ” Ignis says, “I know you can do this. Focus. Detach.”

 

Noctis, of course, does just the opposite, and really, everyone probably sees this coming. Or, at least, they should have.

 

The lights are bright. The live audience is practically frothing at the mouth as Noctis crosses the stage and sits in one of the plush chairs. He’s doing his best to switch personas, to go from being just plain old Noctis, nursing a broken, wounded heart, into Noctis Caelum, the famous movie star, rising talent, all easy, handsome smiles. Of course, easier said than done.

 

“Well, it’s been a busy week for you, hasn’t it?” Dino, the host, says with a smile that is immediately unnerving. He looks like he’s about ready to sink his claws into Noct’s throat. Noctis is pretty sure that’s actually not much of an understatement, either. He reminds himself that this isn’t so bad. That maybe, just maybe, Prompto’s watching, and he can use this opportunity to _fix_ things.

 

Noctis manages a smile, one that’s a bit shakier than normal, but not entirely ingenuine. “Don’t know if busy is the word I’d use for it, Dino. It’s sure as hell been eventful, though.”

 

“ _Eventful,_ I guess that’s a way of putting it,” Dino sounds about as cocky as he looks. Noctis really doesn’t like the guy. He’s an asshole. He looks perfectly composed, silver-blonde hair perfectly styled, eyes sharp, makeup immaculate. He likes to wear this absolutely _hideous_ turquoise tie, too, and Noctis has never understood the point of it. It’s ugly.

 

“So,” and Noctis sees it coming, but it still smacks him in the face, the words coming out. “Let’s cut right to the chase. Your pretty little blonde boytoy, talk about a charity case or _what?”_

 

Ignis had drilled a carefully drafted script about how Noctis should reiterate that he’s sorry that his relationship exploded into the public eye, to reiterate that privacy is important, and a whole other slew of precisely worded things that would smooth the situation over. Of course, Noctis hears the words _charity case,_ and it all goes to shit, like most of his good intentions.

 

“He’s not a charity case,” Noct’s voice has the slightest _off_ pitch to it. From the sidelines, where Ignis is watching, he’s palming over his face and gesturing at Noctis to _be careful._ Of course, Noctis ignores it. “He’s a good guy. He doesn’t… really _do_ the whole acting thing, y’know? So yeah, things got a little messy, c’mon Dino, you’ve been to one of those premieres, they’re overwhelming. He’s a college student, works a lot, just a normal kid. But I _really_ like him and—“

 

“Noctis Caelum, dating a _college kid?”_ Dino interrupts, and his eyes look like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “So. Poor but not a charity case? The sex really that good then, huh _Noct?”_

 

Noctis hates the nickname, coming from the idiot host’s mouth, more than he can state. He’s clenching his fists at his side, and he has to tell himself _deep breaths,_ to calm down. Noctis is an actor. It’s probably the only thing salvaging his situation here.

 

“Can we _not_ talk about that?” he says, and the audience – a bunch of very engrossed women, for the most part – groans disappointedly. Noctis leans forward, and he knows Ignis is about ready to kill him, so he hastily adds in, “look. We’re… sorta working things out, y’know? I’d _really_ appreciate it if people could give us some privacy in the meantime an—“

 

Of course, any attempt at gaining control of the interview is lost. Noct’s just the slightest bit flustered, and Dino knows it, like a fucking shark catching a whiff of blood.

 

“So, the sex _is_ that good,” he smiles, all dazzling bright teeth, and leans in. “Honestly. Can’t blame you, Prince Charming. That kid cleans up _well._ Was that Gucci I saw in some of the paparazzi photos? _Nice_ choice, Caelum. Real Cinderella act, huh?”

 

Noctis groans, and he shakes his head, an attempt to clear it, but his pulse is quickening, and he’s trying to think of some sort of witty response. _Anything,_ really. He should’ve stuck to Ignis’s script. He should shut Dino down. He wishes, more than anything, that he was as clever as Ignis is, because Noct’s getting himself cornered.

 

“He works really hard,” Noctis insists, “why are you making this _weird?_ Why is everyone turning this into, I dunno, a sex thing?”

 

The audience, of course, seems to be going wild. Noctis Caelum, on TV, blundering through an interview about sex? Guaranteed ratings through the roof, trending on Twitter already. Fuck.

 

“You’re tellin’ me it _isn’t_ a sex thing?” Dino laughs, “come on, Noct, we _know_ your reputation. I get it, the whole bicurious thing. Haven’t we _all_ been there? And you _are_ a fine piece of ass, but couldn’t you have picked a better choice? I bet Ravus would’ve had a go or two… we all know you two just play into that rivalry thing…”

 

Noctis really hopes he isn’t as bright red as he thinks he is. The lights are dazzling around him. He _hates_ this publicity shit, and he hates the way he can’t seem to get another word in.

 

“Look,” Noct’s voice is fast and firm, and he really hopes that fucking Dino can’t get another word in, “you and I both know my old reputation is all rumours. I’m pretty sure _you_ started half of them yourself. Whatever everyone thinks is going on, it’s _not_ that at all. Prompto – _damnit –_ Prom, I swear, if you’re watching this mess of an interview and laughing at me, I totally deserve it. I deserve everyone making fun of me and laughing in my face, okay? Just… give me time to fix this. _Everyone,_ okay, I’m gonna fix this.”

 

Dino watches, silently, and pretends, very silkily and obnoxiously, to wipe a tear from his eye. “Well wasn’t that touching? Noctis Caelum, I don’t think I give you enough credit for your acting skills. I should probably apologize for that time I trash-talked your entire career.”  

 

And that’s where Noctis gets fed up. He’s said what he wants to say, and he stands up from the plush chair he’s sitting in, he flips Dino off, and he stalks off the set. Noctis wants to think, by the roar of applause from the audience, and the mildly stunned look on Dino’s face before he quickly recovers, that at least he’s got a small victory there.

 

Ignis gapes at him as he walks backstage. “Noctis, _please_ tell me you didn’t walk out on the middle of that interview,” he’s groaning, even though they both know that’s _exactly_ what just happened. “Noctis, why are you making everything difficult?”

 

“What, you want me to get shit-talked for the next fifteen minutes, Ignis?” Noctis shakes his head, and he flops back down in his chair in his dressing room. He’s _shaking._ Dino’s a fucking slimeball, yeah, but he definitely took it a step too far.

 

Noct’s phone buzzes.

 

It’s a text message from Ravus Nox.

 

_‘for the record, our rivalry is real and I would never fuck you in a million years.’_

Noctis rolls his eyes, but he laughs, the first little bit of genuine laughter he’s had since any of this began.

 

“How bad was it?” he asks Ignis, as his advisor and manager collapses into the chair next to him. Ignis is browsing his phone, and he looks equal parts perplexed, mortified, angry, and maybe a hint of ironic amusement is in there too.

 

“About as disastrous as you expected. Your ‘ragequit’ is trending,” Ignis sighs heavily, a hand over his eyes. He puts his phone down, and removes his glasses, rubbing them, “ _why_ couldn’t you have stuck to the script, Noctis, you _know_ to just ignore Dino’s stupid attacks on you…”

 

Noctis sighs. He reaches for a bottle of water, twists it open, and downs a big gulp. “Ignis. You really think I’m in any mood to deal with that _asshole?_ I just wanted a chance to apologize, fuck… you _know_ I’m not going to kiss that guy’s ass right now…”

 

“This does _not_ make my job easier, Noctis!” Ignis rubs his glasses on his pristine dress shirt, and puts them back on, sighing heavily. “Do you know how impossible this situation is to manage? Do you know how _mad_ Aranea is at me?”

 

“Good, so you’re arguing with your girlfriend, and I’m arguing with my boyfriend,” Noctis grumbles. He reaches for a donut and shoves half of it in his mouth, chewing loudly and angrily at the pastry. Ignis hates loud chewing.

 

Dino sticks his head into the room – damnit, they forgot to lock it – and shoots finger guns in Noct’s direction. “ _Hey,_ Prince Charming. Just wanted to pop in and say no hard feelings, right? I’m just doin’ my job, y’know. I have appearances to keep!”

 

Noctis throws the other half of the donut in Dino’s face at the same moment Ignis follows Noct’s lead and flips him off.

 

This whole thing was a total disaster, and that’s really no surprise to anyone at this point.

 

\---

 

The next few days still suck. Noctis is _over_ this whole being famous thing. He’s over this _fighting_ thing even more. He hopes, half-heartedly, that Prompto will just fucking contact him, that maybe he’ll see that interview and things will be _okay._ They aren’t though. It’s more static silence.

 

The one good thing is that apparently the internet isn’t absolutely ripping him apart anymore.

 

The single positive aspect of that fucking interview (apart from Noctis having the satisfaction of walking off stage) is that Twitter seems to be, at least partly, on his side again. Funny how the internet works. They always like to go on a witch hunt, against the last person who did something problematic. And apparently Noctis is the sympathetic figure in this particular interview. Noct hates to admit it, but he’s somewhat relieved of _that_ at least.

 

And probably a good deal of it is Ignis’s PR genius.

 

Still. It’s cringeworthy, when Noctis actually _bothers_ to see what people are saying.

 

“Team Noctis? _Really?_ ” Noctis groans as he stares at his phone screen. “Ignis, that’s horrible. It sounds like some awful teenage romance novel or something.”

 

Ignis nods curtly, and exchanges a _look_ with Gladio. They’re in the car with Noctis, taking him to the movie studio. Noctis managed to have a few days off, but life goes on, and even with his shit mood, they’re filming today. He doesn’t fucking care about this role, if he’s being honest, but Ignis had fought for him to get it, and ‘some boyfriend troubles are _not_ a reason to trash your career.’ Or something.

 

Noctis really hasn’t noticed. He doesn’t care about much. He’s been moping in bed, wearing that ratty old t-shirt of Prompto’s that he stole, his favourite one. It still smells vaguely of his boyfriend, and it’s the only thing that’s keeping Noctis sleeping at night.

 

“At least you _have_ some people on Team Noctis now,” Ignis points out.

 

“Everyone else was Team Prompto, before,” Gladio adds, with a harsh laugh. Noctis rolls his eyes. Of course they were. Prompto’s definitely the more sympathetic character here, after all. He isn’t the one who _lied_ about his identity, who just happened to be ridiculously naïve and unobservant.

 

“And a good deal of the internet is on _both_ of your sides,” Ignis adds, a little more stiffly, and Noctis gets the feeling that there is some great joke going on, entirely at his expense.

 

“You’ll like that hashtag, Noct,” Gladio adds with another great laugh, tipping his head back to glance at Noctis, who’s lounging in the backseat, legs kicked up onto the center console. Noctis rolls his eyes and groans, because that absolutely means he _won’t_ like it at all.

 

“Team _Promptis?!”_ Noctis sighs, closing his eyes. “Seriously, guys. What fucking fangirls made that shit up?”

 

“Thirsty ones, probably,” Gladio points out. Noctis sighs again.

 

“Like I said,” Ignis adds, mildly, “at least nobody’s calling you various obscenities anymore.”

 

He has a point, but… Noctis doesn’t really see what good it’s doing. It doesn’t get him any closer to Prompto forgiving him. He’s _tried_ to give Prompto space. Noct’s avoided texting him a million times. He’s sent a couple more apologies, but… _nothing._ And okay, maybe he got drunk last night and ordered flowers to his apartment. Just maybe. It was a moment of weakness, okay?!

 

“How’s Prompto doing? Do you guys know?” Noctis says, slowly. He knows that Ignis is in regular contact with Aranea. And he knows Aranea is the one fucking person who seems to have an in with Prompto still.

 

Ignis and Gladio exchange _another_ look. “Well,” Ignis says slowly, silkily.

 

Noctis narrows his eyes and whips out his phone.

 

Noctis, apparently, is a whole lot better at googling his boyfriend’s name than Prompto was for the past several months, because it doesn’t take him long to find Prompto’s twitter. There is one very angry tweet from several days back, and then _nothing –_ but it doesn’t change the fact that Prompto’s got a whole lot of followers now. Noctis groans, because _that_ is absolutely his own fault.

 

When he finds the video trending on Twitter, though, Noctis damn near drops his phone.

 

His sound isn’t on, and it’s a damn good thing it isn’t, because he’d probably be _really_ fucking mad. From what he can make out of the grainy video, though, it’s Prompto’s apartment building. And there’s Prompto – Noct’s heart leaps into his fucking chest at the sight of him – with his familiar blonde hair, with eyes that seem tired, a face that seems less happy, more exhausted lined heavily.

 

There’s a whole slew of reporters blocking the entrance to the stairwell that leads up to Prompto’s apartment. Noctis groans, as he watches the video, watches as Prompto tries to duck through the crowd. One particularly brave reporter reaches out, grabs Prompto’s arm, and Noctis outright makes a quiet, angry sound in response.

 

“Fuck,” Noctis says, watching as the video continues on silently, as a reporter mouths something, and Prompto twists his arm free and runs up the stairs to his apartment. Fuck, this is _not_ good. Noctis knows this is all his fault. He dragged Prompto into the spotlight. He dragged him into the spotlight _again,_ apologizing publicly in that stupid interview that blew up. And now everyone’s chanting #teamprompto and #teampromptis and a whole bunch of bullshit, and—

 

“Gladio. Iggy,” Noctis says, frantically, and he restarts the video, hanging his phone up to his bodyguard. His fingers are shaking, and he almost drops it, but Gladio takes it, and with a glance at the screen, he hisses and swears under his breath.

 

“Fuck, that poor kid,” Gladio grumbles. “Ignis, it’s _worse_ than we thought…”

 

“You have to do something,” Noctis decides, suddenly. “Fuck, you guys. Prompto hates me, but I’m not gonna let his life get ruined this way. _Please,_ go find him, talk to him, Gladio, get the kid some help, _please?”_

 

“I doubt he’ll want to talk to us,” Ignis tries to point out, but Noctis is shaking his head again, firmly.

 

“Please. We gotta fix this, Iggy, you _gotta_ let me try and fix this…”

 

Gladio shrugs. “We’ll go talk to him. See if we can get him under some sort of protection. Guess we owe him that much, at least, huh?”

 

Noctis is pretty sure his heart is ripping out of his chest. He hates this. He hates feeling _helpless,_ and he hates the fact that this has gone so far. The scope of this is so wide, and he’s really realizing, really and _truly,_ that this isn’t just a humiliating night for Prompto. Fuck, this isn’t even about a _career._ This is Noct’s stupid, dumb life coming in and taking over Prompto’s.

 

“I’ve ruined his life,” Noctis sighs out, and he doesn’t cry, he _doesn’t,_ but he feels the frustrated tears welling in his eyes, and for once, Noctis Caelum feels truly, and entirely powerless. Money and status can’t solve this problem for him, for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please remember this fic shouldn't be taken seriously lmfao. <3 however i love your reviews and kudos and comments and everything else, regardless so please continue to rage to me, haha, i'm sorry, why am i like this? 
> 
> we'll switch back to prompto next chapter! don't worry, these dumb boys will figure their shit out. can we all just agree to hate dino now instead of ignis/gladio/noctis/prompto? LMAO. 
> 
> as always, on tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest, and numi can be found @numinoceur. she and i have figured out WHERE THIS IS GOING, and we are so fuckin' excited to keep pushing along, THINGS ARE GONNA GET SO GOOD GUYSSS i'm excited haha.


	15. Team Prompto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone continues to make Prompto's life miserable.

Prompto realizes, very fast, that his life has become very different, very quickly. And it’s _not_ a good kind of different.

 

He’s in class the day after Noctis showed up at the tea shop, and Prompto notices a few people staring and whispering. He ignores it, pointedly, shrinking down some in his seat and focusing on his work, instead. He swears though, it only gets worse as the two hours go by. When the class ends, he’s already got his bag packed and he’s jumping out of his chair and leaving as quickly as he can.

 

When Prompto gets home, it’s even _worse._ He’s been doing his best to stay off the internet, he _swears_ he is. He isn’t checking that awful twitter account of his, that’s for sure. But the trending video, right now, is stupid Noctis Caelum, who’s apparently gone on Good Morning Insomnia, most likely to gloat about his newest conquest.

 

Prompto clicks the video off without playing it.

 

Then he pauses. He tries to do something else. He starts working on editing a few RAWs he took for one of his classes – ones that definitely aren’t that gorgeous skyline from Noct’s apartment, thank you very much – but it keeps creeping back into his mind.

 

Inevitably, Prompto goes looking for the video again.

 

“Serves you right,” he grumbles, as he watches Dino, the host, absolutely rip Noctis a new one. He’s not outright calling him a whore, but… _well._ Prompto doesn’t even care that apparently he’s being treated like some stupid poor pity case. That’s all he was to Noct, after all, right?

 

Then he gets toward the end of the video, the part where Noct’s staring very sincerely at the camera.

 

The part where Noctis is apologizing – to _him,_ to Prompto.

 

“ _Prompto – damnit – Prom, I swear, if you’re watching this mess of an interview and laughing at me, I totally deserve it. I deserve everyone making fun of me and laughing in my face, okay? Just… give me time to fix thi—“_

Prompto clicks out the video, and he pushes his computer chair back from the desk. He gets up, and he paces around the room. He feels like punching something. He feels like screaming.

 

Instead, Prompto curls up in his bed, and he cries, and he _hates_ that he’s crying. He hates that he feels bad for Noctis, getting dragged through the mud publicly on television like that. And, naturally, Prompto hates that he _wants_ to call Noctis, that he wants to… what? Talk this out? Prompto knows there’s no coming back from this. They can’t talk it out. Noctis is an _actor,_ the voice in his head is telling him. This is just what he does.

 

Still, there are lingering doubts in Prompto’s mind, and the second-guessing is driving him insane. He is so sick of Noctis Caelum, he could scream, or cry (again), and he doesn’t really want to know which one it really is.

 

\---

 

The second day at class is so much worse. Apparently, the news has broken past social media and into the mainstream, courtesy of that goddamn Good Morning Insomnia interview, because poor Prompto doesn’t stand a chance. He’s sitting at his desk before the start of his class – he’s early, because he has to walk, now that he doesn’t have a car again, and he doesn’t ever wanna risk being late – when a girl saunters up.

 

“I can’t believe,” she says, “that _Noctis Caelum’s boyfriend_ has been in this class all along! And we had no idea!”

 

Prompto blinks a few times. He groans, and he very pointedly looks down at his desk, as a whole bunch of sensations wash over him. He’s pissed still. Really, really goddamn pissed. He’s still panicking and trying to hang low, and it’s apparently not working. That interview has gone and ruined _any_ chances he had of stay lowkey. Well, that, tied with the fact that he’d blundered himself into the spotlight on Twitter.

 

“I’m not Noctis Caelum’s boyfriend,” Prompto sighs. He’s trying to keep his voice steady, trying to keep himself on the right side of yet another meltdown. More than anything, he’s _irritated,_ because he’s at _school,_ and seriously, do people have to be that fucking rude?

 

“Your Twitter account says otherwise,” the girl says, “and I _know_ those photos on your Instagram. You showed some of them in class. Have a few pictures of your cute not-boyfriend there, too. It’s definitely you. Not to mention, how many people are named _Prompto?_ He called you out on that interview.”

 

Prompto shoves her hand away when she tries to pull her phone out and show him. Like he doesn’t know already.

 

“We broke up, okay?!” Prompto says, and he doesn’t bother to keep his voice low. It comes out loud, louder than he’d anticipated, enough that several people look up and glance in his direction, and _fuck,_ there are eyes all over him, from the few people who are already here.

 

The girl frowns, and she leans in a little closer – Prompto leans back, in response – and gives him a _look._ “You’re crazy. Rich, handsome, bet he’s _amazing_ in bed… why the hell would you break up with him?!”

 

“None of your damn business,” Prompto grumbles back, and thank the fucking _gods_ that the instructor turns up that instant, because he’s about ready to take off, to say fuck it to the whole thing. It’s not worth it, feeling like a fucking spectacle for everyone else’s amusement, and he’s damn well aware of the eyes on him.

 

Prompto sinks down in his chair through the whole class. He’s good in this class, and the instructor seems to like him. Normally, he’s a bit more of a willing participant, eager and cheerful, but… he’s just _worn._ He’s exhausted, from the whole Noctis thing, from the eyes burning into his back, from the way that even the fucking _instructor_ seems to offer him the occasional lingering glance. Prompto just wants his life to go back to normal, and he’s got a distinct, sinking feeling that this is anything but normal, that people’s interest is stuck on him. Fuck, why did he have to post anything on the internet? Why did Noctis have to go on _television_ and broadcast it to the world?

 

Why the hell did Noctis Caelum, stupid movie star, have to take interest in him in the first place? That, of course, is the question that Prompto’s stuck on, because he just doesn’t want to believe the obvious answer, that it was all that a giant scheme for attention. Just the thought, it’s pulling Prompto in directions he _really_ doesn’t want to go in. Fuck.

 

It’s a relief when class is over. Prompto’s quick to toss his books into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and jogging out of the class the second it ends, before any inquisitive students can swarm him again. He’s one of the first ones out, and the hallway is blissfully empty, much to Prompto’s relief.

 

Of course, nothing’s easy for Prompto anymore. It’s all one hell of a giant mess, and so naturally, he’s on his way to the stairwell, when, seemingly out of nowhere, he’s approached by someone that Prompto absolutely, definitely, totally recognizes, and his stomach drops, his eyes widen, and he realizes _fuck,_ he’s in trouble.

 

“Prompto Argentum?” the smooth, far too cheerful voice is asking, as the man standing in front of him manages to expertly corner him, blocking him in between the entrance to an empty classroom and the wall. Prompto realizes, _very_ quickly, that’s he’s trapped. He looks around frantically for help, but the downside of keeping to himself and trying to avoid people means that, of course, there’s nobody to save him right now. _Fuck._ Not good.

 

“Uh, that’s me,” Prompto tries to say, “look, I’ve got work, so I can’t talk…”

 

“I’m Dino Ghiranze,” the other man is saying, and of course Prompto knows that, because he’d recognize that slick hairstyle and those sharp eyes and that hideous turquoise tie and dumb black and white and grey suit _anywhere._ God, for a guy who spends so much time in the public eye, grilling celebrities and spouting gossip, he _really_ has terrible fashion sense. Prompto thinks maybe he should say that, but he’s mostly intent on simply getting away.

 

“I know who you are,” Prompto replies, quickly, “I’m not interested in talking.”

 

“ _Everyone_ is interested in talking to me,” Dino interrupts quickly, and even as Prompto tries to duck under him, he’s side-stepping, blocking the exit path. “ C’mon, honey, Prompto, level with me. Noct already told me about your situation. Hell, you know how easy it was to track you down? I promise, I will make an interview _worth_ your while.”

 

“I’m not interested,” Prompto insists, more urgently, but it feels a little like he’s speaking to deaf ears.

 

Dino fixes Prompto with a _look,_ one that simultaneously just pisses him off and reduces him to feeling like he’s naked, exposed, like he’s very tiny. He hates it, and his fingers clench, tightening into fists at his sides.

 

“At least give me a minute here, Prom. Can I call you Prom?” and he doesn’t give Prompto a chance to interrupt with a very clear _‘no’_ because Dino’s surging forward, “okay, Prom. What’s your secret? Pretty sure every average man and woman in Insomnia wants to know just how you bagged Noctis Caelum.”

 

Prompto tries again to duck aside, but Dino’s watching him intently, predicting his every move, and he finds himself boxed further back against the wall.

 

“Look, I _didn’t_ want to date a celebrity,” Prompto sighs, “I really have to go to work, dude, just fucking ruin someone else’s life, okay?!”

 

Dino laughs and rolls his eyes, and Prompto absolutely _can’t_ believe this asshole is a real person who actually exists, because he’s just offering up Prompto another of those ridiculously fake smiles. “Okay. Redirect. _When_ are you just going to forgive that boy? I mean, yeah, he’s stupid, but he’s so nice to look at, does it really matter? Bet you could quit your job at that tea shop then, huh?”

 

Prompto’s mouth drops open. First of all, he’s somehow, impossibly, irrationally, _pissed_ about this idiot calling Noctis stupid. Of course, Noctis _is_ stupid, but that’s for Prompto to say, not an asshole gossip tabloid-scum level reporter to say. Second, this guy knows where he works. And where he goes to _school._ Sure, some girls on the internet had figured out the tea shop but… well. This is spiraling out of control way too fast, and Prompto’s only beginning to fathom just how big this is getting. He’s in a lot of trouble.

 

“Leave me alone,” Prompto says, instead, “you just shit all over Noct on public television, _why_ would I wanna talk to you?”

 

“I can pay you,” Dino offers up, quickly, all dazzling smiles, “money. Or… you’re a nice-looking guy. I saw how fast you cleaned up with all those fancy clothes. Maybe we can _work_ something out.”

 

“I’m not interested,” Prompto manages, quickly, eyes narrowing. “You think I _care_ about money or fancy stuff? Noctis and I are done, I gave him all his stuff back, it’s _over,_ go away.”

 

 _“Promise,_ I’ll paint you in a good light,” Dino’s insisting though, persistent, that smile still written all over his face, “c’mon, Prompto, people _love_ the relatable, unfortunate hero. You really think they want Noctis to succeed here?! He’s the rich asshole, taking advantage of you—“

 

“Not. Interested.” Prompto’s hands are flexing, and he’s reminded, yet again, of all those fucking martial arts lessons Cor had convinced him to take when he was a kid. It’d been good for him, had given him _something_ through those years in foster care, something that belonged to just him and his uncle. Right now, he’s itching to put it to good use on this Dino guy. It counts as self-defense, right?

 

Dino sighs, though, and and he presses forward, clearly not giving him. “You _really_ wanna keep letting the internet walk all over you?! They’re calling you a gold digger and a whore an—“

 

“I’m _not_ a whore. This isn’t a weird sex thing, why the hell do you people _keep_ assuming that?!” And. That’s it. Prompto’s eyes narrow, and he’s moving, pressing himself up off the wall, shoving roughly past Dino with a shoulder. The other man almost falls backwards, losing his balance, but Prompto doesn’t fucking stop, he takes off, running to the stairwell and taking the stairs two at a time.

 

“Hey, you’re gonna regret that!” he hears Dino yelling at his back, but Prompto absolutely doesn’t _care._ He’s fucked. He’s so incredibly fucked. Reporters stalking him down, cornering him, asking increasingly intimate, personal questions?! How the hell does he come back from this?

 

Of course, Prompto should’ve expected that it wasn’t the end of things so easily. He takes side-streets home from school, instead of the main roads. It takes a little longer, but there’s that awful, constant fear prickling at his back, reminding him that it’d be really fucking easy for this Dino to trail him, to figure out where he lives. It should be obvious to Prompto, by now, that it’s really not _hard_ to figure out where someone lives. That, if Dino Ghiranze of Good Morning Insomnia could pinpoint exactly what classroom he was in, could be waiting outside, there’s probably already people who have figured out just where he lives, too.

 

Prompto’s stomach drops when he finally turns the corner to the back lot of his building. He stops short, in the middle of the parking lot, because there’s a bunch of people already hanging out _outside_ his fucking apartment building. Paparazzi with cameras and tabloid reporters, and _fuck,_ no, this isn’t happening.

 

Prompto draws himself up and keeps his head down, and hopes that nobody notices him as he makes his way to the entry-way to the building. Of course, he’d been dumb enough to not bring his hoodie, or a hat. How many times had he made fun of Noctis for his awful fashion sense?! Prompto, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s starting to realize just why Noctis did the things Noctis did.

 

“ _Hey!”_ a woman says, as Prompto tries to work his way through the crowd, pretending that it’s not him, “ _it’s you! Prompto Argentum!”_

 

Prompto groans, and he ignores it, keeps plowing through, but a woman reaches out, _grabs_ his arm, and suddenly everyone’s swarming him, photos flashing and several phones out, recording everything.

 

“C’mon, Prompto, sweetie, the internet wants to know how Team Prompto’s doing!” the woman says.

 

It takes all of Prompto’s fucking self-control to not throw a punch, to not viciously slam people away, because he’s so _tired,_ and first Dino, and now this, and he just wants his _life_ back. More than that, the panic is kicking in again. His heart’s fluttering in his chest, his eyes are watering, he’s _so close_ to shutting down – flight instinct kicks in, thank god, and that’s what saves him.

 

“There is _no_ Team Prompto,” Prompto says harshly, “leave me the fuck alone, I’m just _me,_ okay?!” and then he’s wrenching his arm free, doing a bit of footwork and twisting loose and taking off running up the stairs. It’s a damn good thing he’s an adept running, because he almost trips, but he catches himself. And it’s an even better thing that apparently Cindy’s been watching and waiting, cuz she has the door open, and Prompto’s heaving himself in, the door slamming behind them, lock clicking in place.

 

There’s several knocks, the bell ringing, and Prompto stares helplessly at the door.

 

“They’ve been here for a couple of hours now,” Cindy drawls out. She takes Prompto by the arm, and leads him over to the couch, where he collapses heavily, arms thrown over his legs, head tucked down. The panic’s beginning to fade, now that he’s inside, and Cindy’s sitting down next to him. It helps, and Prompto makes a quiet, appreciative noise that she’s not leaving.

 

“How the fuck did they find me?” Prompto sighs, head in his hands, but Cindy doesn’t have an answer there.

 

“The media’s vicious, hun,” is all Cindy can offer, and Prompto can only agree there.

 

\---

 

So, things can’t get any worse, can they? That’s what Prompto tells himself. Of course, turns out Dino was recording the whole fucking thing, and now the internet is buzzing about “Cinderella Speaks! The clock struck midnight and Prince Charming is out!” and a whole bunch of really bad headlines. Prompto forces himself to watch the video, just once, and there’s a huge rush of secondhand embarrassment at his downcast eyes and his flushed face. Cindy seems pleased though, at the way he shoves through Dino, the video ending abruptly with Prompto running off.

 

Work though, it’s gotten tough. Prompto’s first shift after this whole mess goes truly viral, it’s impossible. The paparazzi are outside, and it’s keeping the customers out, and the owner has to intervene. “I’m not firing you,” he tells Prompto, firmly, after an impossible shift, one where Luna has to call for help, “but take some time off? Lay low, this will blow over…”

 

So now Prompto doesn’t have any shifts at the tea shop to keep him busy. That means no paycheck, either, and the money that he’s saved up from his time dating Noctis, with all of Noct’s doting and spoiling and extra big tips, it’s going to pay for groceries and rent’s coming up, and… well. It’s a mess. Prompto can’t fucking go outside without getting swarmed, and he has to sneak out the back way, sweater drawn tight, just to make it to school. The only good thing is that Dino hasn’t shown up again, but Prompto distinctly gets the feeling that there’s always someone trailing him.

 

A couple of days later, Luna stops by to check in on how they’re doing. Prompto almost misses her arrival, because his phone is dead (as usual – he still hasn’t replaced the battery, damnit) and he’s made a habit of outright ignoring the doorbell ringing.

 

It just so happens that Cindy’s around though, and she peeks through the hole in the door.

 

“Prom?” she calls out, “you know a cute blonde girl?!”

 

Prompto hasn’t been sleeping well. He’s stressed, and exhausted, and he’s been tossing and turning in bed the past couple of nights. It’s a side effect of the anxiety, maybe. He’s been trying to focus on his school projects, but even editing photos and doing research has lost some of its appeal. The internet’s just… well, a dangerous place, when your fucking name is all over it. It seems every time he has a run in with _anyone_ at this point, it pops up online later for him to relive the awful moment.

 

In short, Prompto’s going fucking stir-crazy, but he’s too scared to go outside, when it’s not absolutely necessary. He’s restless. He wants to go for a run, but the one morning he did, he made it half a mile before he started freaking out that someone was following him – probably just paranoia, too – and it was enough to turn him around and get him heading back to the apartment. It’s just… a giant mess.

 

So he’s got bags under his eyes when he shuffles out in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair’s a mess, and why bother with makeup, when he’s not leaving the apartment, anyway? Prompto pushes his glasses up his nose and he frowns. There’s… well, two cute blonde girls he knows, and one’s the person talking to him.

 

“If it’s another stalker, I swear, Cindy, I’m gonna lose it,” Prompto mumbles, but he peeks through the door and, for the first time in days, he manages a smile, hitting the lock and swinging the door open to let Luna in.

 

“You didn’t answer my texts,” Luna says, with some mild accusation, but she’s smiling as she steps inside. Despite the warm smile, Prompto frowns a little, because Luna, too, looks exhausted. She carries herself better than Prompto does, but there’s little worry-lines creasing her eyes, and dark shadows that makeup can’t quite hide.

 

“My phone’s dead, Luna, you know that,” Prompto says, somewhat ruefully, rubbing at the back of his head, mussing up his already messy hair further.

 

Luna rolls her eyes, and sticks her tongue out. “You _really_ should have kept that new phone he bought you. That boy deserves to at least pay for some of your troubles.”

 

“I told him the same thing,” Cindy pipes up, with some amusement. Luna tips her head, and Prompto watches as she gives Cindy a lingering glance, and he _swears,_ Luna’s cheeks flush, just a little bit.

 

“That’s my roommate, Cindy,” Prompto offers up, “Cindy, my work wife, Luna.”

 

“Is that what I am?” Luna sounds amused, but she shakes her head, curly blonde bangs falling down across her face. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Likewise,” Cindy tips her head, and her smile is wide and genuine. “Was gonna make Prom watch some bad romance movies with me. Figured we can order pizza. Ya wanna stick around?”

 

“Definitely,” Luna agrees, with a smile, and the three of them settle down onto the couch, a big, plush blanket drawn across their laps. It’s almost possible to forget about Noctis, Prompto realizes, when he’s surrounded by two beautiful women. _Almost._

 

When the pizza arrives, Cindy gets up to deal with it, and they pause the shitty vampire romance movie they’re partway through.

 

“I thought you worked today, Luna,” Prompto points out, with a frown, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “We were both supposed to work today, before I got taken off the schedule…”

 

Luna frowns, too, and she looks mildly concerned. “I wasn’t going to mention it, Prom,” she admits, and she averts her gaze. “Turns out those jerks making your life hell did some digging on me, too. Once they found out about my brother…”

 

Prompto feels the blood rushing to his cheeks. He’s pissed and upset and _guilty as hell,_ all at once. “Shit, Luna, this is _all_ my fault, I’m sorry…” he groans out, lifting a hand to his face and pressing it over his eyes. “So now you’re not working either, huh?”

 

Luna shrugs. “It’s not a huge deal, for me. I told Ravus, and he’s being generous… I think he’s _really_ mad at Noctis, though.”

 

“He should be,” Prompto replies, instantly, and there’s a bit of animosity creeping back into his voice, his tone turning harsh and rough. After all, this is all Noctis Caelum’s fault. He was the one who got them into this. It’s Noct’s fault that Prompto’s life is all turned around, that he’s stuck hiding in his apartment like a pathetic fool. “Noctis deserves all this fucking hate that he’s getting, Luna. He…” Prompto trails off, and he realizes his eyes are wet. Fuck.

 

“Prompto,” Luna says quietly, gently, “maybe you should talk to him…”

 

“ _No,”_ the reply is swift, instant, and Prompto’s relieved that Cindy picks that moment to return with the pizza and a few sodas for them. The tension eases away, as she settles back in, and the three resume the movie, slowly working away at the box of greasy pizza in front of them. There’s a nagging thought in Prompto’s mind, of course, that maybe Luna’s right, maybe he _should_ give Noctis a chance but… hell. Prompto isn’t ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever, he doesn’t know for sure.

 

Later, Cindy offers to take Luna home. The paparazzi and reporters have died down some, but there’s usually still a few lurking around, and Cindy’s gotten good at dodging them. Prompto has to admit, he feels a _little_ better, with the distraction his friends have offered. He needs the companionship. He hates to admit how much he misses Noctis. And he misses his uncle, too. Cor’s been offering for Prompto to come stay with him, to get away some, but…. Well, honestly, he doesn’t want to drag his uncle into this. Prompto’s nothing short of a hot mess.

 

When the doorbell rings, Prompto freezes again. It’s late, already dark out, and he ignores it. He’s still flopped out on his stomach across the couch, watching TV. There’s a few soggy pieces of pizza left, but instead, Prompto’s eating a bag of gummy candies that he’d found in the cupboard. He’s definitely gonna put on a few pounds from all the stress eating, but that’s Future Prompto’s problem.

 

The doorbell rings again, and Prompto’s curiosity gets the better of him. When he cracks the door open, there’s someone retreating. He looks down, though, and his breath catches in his throat.

 

There’s a vase filled with flowers sitting on the doorstep. Prompto’s heart thuds in his chest, and he feels his cheeks flush, and there’s a rush of emotion he doesn’t really know what to do with. It’s conflict, and _fuck_ he should just close the door and ignore it.

 

Instead, Prompto opens the door, picking up the vase with shaking hands. He nudges the door shut behind him, and he sits the arrangement down on the kitchen counter. There’s absolutely no doubt who it’s from, before he even opens up the little card that’s sticking out of the side.

 

‘I’m sorry,’ the simple script written on the card simply states, ‘always yours, Noctis.’

 

“Always yours,” Prompto mutters, and his eyes narrow. He’s still pissed, and maybe he hadn’t even realized _just_ how pissed he still was, until now. _Always yours._ Noctis was never his. People who say things like “always yours” and mean it? They don’t lie about their entire existence.

 

It’s a nice bouquet of flowers, though. It’s sunflowers, with white roses and daisies. The colours are bright and beautiful, and maybe Prompto’s a bit of a geek when it comes to flowers. Sunflowers are his absolute _favourite,_ and there’s a jolt of guilt that all this is happening. It’s gotta be a coincidence, right, that Noct knew that? The whole bouquet, together… it means dedication, love, loyalty, and new beginnings. Fuck, Prompto hates that he _knows_ that, and he hates that Noct knew just what to send.

 

The vase the flowers are settled in is yellow, and there’s a little chocobo plushie attached to the side, too. Prompto simply stares for a long, desperate moment, at the flowers.

 

“No,” he says, aloud, to absolutely nobody. “No, Noctis, we’re _not_ doing this.”

 

And hell, before Prompto can change his mind, before he can back out, before he finds himself giving in, in a moment of weakness, he’s reaching for one of those sunflowers, and snapping the blossoming flower right off the stem. It snaps off with a satisfying cracking sound, and it’s somehow cathartic. It’s every tumultuous feeling that’s been tripping through Prompto’s mind over the past few days.

 

He rips the petals off a daisy, and feels a little better. The white rose petals bruise and stain and crush under Prompto’s fingers, and it’s a bit of a thrill. Noct’s the reason all of this is happening, Prompto reminds himself, yet again. This is all because Noctis fucked up.

 

Suddenly, Prompto realizes the kitchen counter is a mess of petals. There’s snapped stems and ruined petals and broken flowers, and he should feel _really_ good about that. He does, for a moment, but as he stares at the mess… he realizes, really, that he just feels _empty._ He’s lonely, and everything’s missing, and the splash of colour in his life that’s Noctis? It’s all gone, all faded to grey.

 

“Fuck,” Prompto says aloud. There’s still nobody to hear him.

 

He gathers up the petals and the stems, and he dumps them in the trash. He empties the water from the vase, and he throws that in, too. The card from Noct? It’s ripped in half, and then ripped again, and again, into little tiny scraps of paper that flutter through the air and land in the mess of ruined flower sin the trash bin.

 

The little chocobo plushie, though? Prompto’s fingers shake as he picks it up, as he feels the softness under his fingertips, and damnit, he can’t help but remember that stupid first date Noct had taken him on. Now… looking back? It all makes sense, how they got in after hours, the strange _looks_ they’d been given… goddamnit. Even then, it’d been obvious, right?

 

Still. Prompto hesitates. He can’t, for some reason, throw the little toy away. He just _can’t_ do it.

 

Prompto sleeps with the little chocobo tucked under his arm that night, and he hates that it helps him sleep just a little bit better.

 

\---

 

“Just so you know,” a different girl tells Prompto, before class, a couple of days later, as she stands in front of the desk he’s sitting at, “I’m Team Promptis. You two were _really_ cute together.”

 

Prompto was _hoping_ nobody would approach him. He’s been hoping that things would slow down over the past couple of days, but someone caught a shot of Luna leaving his apartment, and now _that’s_ a thing, too, once they placed Ravus’s sister at the scene, and now there’s rumours of a love triangle, and it’s _all_ a huge fucking mess. He’s given up on trying to keep track of it all. His twitter account keeps getting followers, and people are spamming him in Instagram, and… yeah. It’s bad. He’d managed to dodge a particularly persistent paparazzi on his way here, and Prompto really just wants to get this class over, and go home.

 

He frowns though, and the girl hovering over his desk is buzzing with impatience.

 

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Prompto sighs, “ _please,_ just go away.”

 

“Team Promptis,” the girl says, far more insistently, pushing pink glasses up her nose and twirling her hair around a finger as she leans against the side of Prompto’s desk. “you’ve got a whole following, you know. There’s like, fanfic on the internet and stuff. My friend drew a picture of you guys, it’s kinda smutty, but I can share if you’d, like, be willing to sign it.”

 

Prompto lifts his head, and his expression, he’s pretty sure, is one of _sheer horror,_ his stomach is doing knots, and all he can think is along the lines of, ‘can this seriously get any worse?’ How does this just keep getting worse?

 

“Look, Noctis and I are done. We’re not getting back together, I’m so sick of this, I’m just a _normal guy_ like you are,” Prompto insists, “I’m tired, and _everyone_ is harassing me, and I just want to go back to being a nobody, okay?”

 

The girl frowns, and takes a step back. “…. So you won’t sign it?”

 

“I’m not signing _anything!”_ Prompto’s sick of it. He’s so tired, he wants to sleep for a month, and maybe when he wakes up, this will all blow over. He shouldn’t skip class, he really shouldn’t. But he’s just really _weirded out,_ as the girl scoots back to her own desk, to whisper excitedly with her friend. Prompto feels eyes on him, he’s pretty sure everyone is still staring at him, and that does it. He pushes his chair back, he gathers up his books, and he’s rushing out of class. There’s panic bubbling up, again.

 

The anxiety is weighing him down. It hurts, it’s got Prompto all worn thin, and his mind is a rush. He’s gotta get out of here. Maybe he can find an empty classroom to hide, until he calms down.

 

Of course, all these thoughts come to a grinding halt, because Prompto looks up as he’s quickly rushing down the hallway, and he sees two _very_ familiar figures standing in front of him. It’s not Noctis, thank fucking god. Prompto would lose his shit if it was Noctis. But it’s not much better. There’s a flash of panic, followed by more anxiety, followed by pure, unfiltered _anger._

 

“Prompto,” Ignis says, when their eyes meet, and Prompto stops, abruptly. His eyes narrow, his fists clench, and he’s immediately backing himself up, going into defensive mode.

 

 _“You,”_ Prompto says, and he doesn’t bother to hide the venom in his tone. “What the hell are you guys doing here? Come to ruin my life even more?!”

 

Ignis sighs. Prompto’s glad to see, in a vindictive kind of way, that he looks just as exhausted. His eyes seem tired, under the sharp glasses he always wears. His hair is perfect, yeah, but it seems like Ignis hasn’t quite put the usual care into it. His shirt is wrinkled, too, like the man forgot to immaculately press his clothes before wearing them. In truth, Ignis just hasn’t had fucking time, because he’s been running damage control ever since all that happened. Let’s be honest though: he kinda deserves that much.

 

“We came to apologize,” Ignis says, quietly. “Perhaps we can find somewhere quiet to discuss things?”

 

“No,” Prompto replies, instantly, taking a step back. “We don’t have _anything_ to talk about.”

 

Gladio takes a step forward, a slow one, and he’s holding his arms up, big palms out, a quiet show of surrender. Prompto eyes the big man over a few times. He’s not _as_ pissed at Gladio as he is at Ignis. He’d only met him a handful of times, and Gladio had always come across as big and harmless and friendly. Of the three, Noct, Ignis, and Gladio, Prompto gets the feeling that Gladio just kinda goes along for the ride. And, well, that still makes him a coconspirator, but not quite _as_ guilty.

 

“We’re here to help,” Gladio says, “if you’re willing to hear us out.”

 

Prompto’s eyes narrow. This has to be a trick. It’s Ignis playing some new mind game. What’s the headline that’s gonna follow? ‘Fairy godmother Ignis steps in to save Cinderella?’ Nope. No fucking way. Prompto’s not delicate. He’s not some damsel in distress. Things are shitty, yeah, but he can handle them all on his fucking own, thank you very much.

 

“I’m fine. I don’t need help.”

 

Ignis sighs, “we’ve seen the videos on the internet. You’re being swarmed by the media, Prompto. We can keep Noctis safe, but you’ve been on your own. Let us help.”

 

“ _No,”_ Prompto insists, his eyes flashing, taking another step back. “I’m not a fucking idiot. I… let myself ignore all the signs, before, but I’m _not_ falling for this again. What are you gonna do, spin this all around for Noct’s precious fucking career?! Oh, _look_ at how generous everyone’s favourite celebrity is to the poor kid? I’m not buying it. You guys can help me out by _leaving me alone.”_

There’s a moment of silence, and Prompto really doesn’t know why he doesn’t just _turn around_ and leave. He’s glaring though, staring at Ignis with his arms crossed over his chest, body language screaming, _‘just fucking try me.’_  The last time Ignis saw him, Prompto had been a hot mess, in the middle of a breakdown. And even though the only person Prompto trusts out of this whole situation, Aranea, had said that Ignis meant well… _well._ Prompto isn’t buying it.

 

“Look,” Ignis says, finally, in a quiet, exhausted voice, sounding utterly defeated, maybe even _vulnerable._ The tone takes Prompto by surprise, lowers his guard, just a little. “I was wrong. I should’ve intervened, and I didn’t, and now everyone’s upset. Noctis is upset, and… I am loyal to him, yes, but part of being a loyal friend, I’m afraid, is knowing when to step in. I failed you both.”

 

Prompto’s eyes narrow further. He doesn’t know what to say, and his heart’s being tugged in a direction he hadn’t expected, but he pushes all that aside. Ignis can smooth-talk all he wants, and it doesn’t change the solid facts. It doesn’t change that everyone’s been lying to Prompto, that Ignis had every opportunity, and he said _nothing._

 

“Damn right you should’ve said something,” is what Prompto finally says, eventually. “You didn’t, though. Now I’m getting _stalked_ and harassed and you guys are just making it worse!”

 

Gladio takes another step forward. Prompto eyes him warily, and he realizes, for the first time, that he’s holding something in his hands. He offers it up, and Prompto blinks. “What’s that?”

 

“A little apology,” Gladio admits, with a laugh and a shake of his head. “… I mean, I’m not innocent here, either, I should’ve stepped in, too. I had no idea Noct hadn’t told ya.”

 

For some reason, Prompto finds it easier to believe Gladio than it is to trust Ignis. Maybe it’s just because he and Gladio had gotten along instantly, that every time they’ve encountered each other, it’s been easy smiles. Gladio’s a genuine kind of guy, and Prompto gets the feeling that he _doesn’t_ lie. Avoiding truths, like ‘hey I’m working for a famous dude’, yeah, apparently. But outright lying? It doesn’t seem his type.

 

“I don’t want any pity gifts,” Prompto says, but Gladio’s pushing it into his hands. Prompto looks down, and it’s a fancy chocolate bar. Goddamnit. Prompto’s got a damn sweet tooth, and even if Gladio doesn’t know that, Noctis most definitely does. He has a feeling Noct’s behind all of this.

 

“Take it,” Gladio insists, “it’s a fuckin’ chocolate bar. You need it, after the week you’ve had.”

 

Well. He has a point. Prompto grumbles, and he rips open the wrapper, popping a square of chocolate in his face. Damnit, it’s _really_ good chocolate, too. Fucking Noctis, and fuck his stupid friends. This is all stupid, and Prompto’s over it.

 

“I don’t want your help,” Prompto repeats, and this time, it’s in a tone that’s absolutely firm. “I don’t care what you _think_ you can do for me. You can’t fix this.”

 

Ignis sighs, as if he’d known that answer was coming. In all honesty, he probably did. Gladio quickly says, “call us if you change your mind,” but Prompto’s already turning around, rushing back the other way, heading to the back stairwell to get the hell out of there. And yeah, he definitely eats the rest of the candy. Angrily, though. Very angrily. Because fuck Noctis.

 

\---

 

Two days later, Prompto gives in.

 

It’s not his own misfortunes that wear him down, though. Yeah, he’s still not working. Yeah, he’s dodging people. Some of the media frenzy dies down a _little_ bit, but there’s still people snapping pictures of him everywhere he goes. The social media storm is still raging, and every time Prompto looks, he regrets it.

 

This #TeamPromptis thing is exploding, and somehow, Prompto hates even more that the fucking internet is so intent on the two of them getting back together. There’s a whole group of people arguing over #TeamNoctis and #TeamPrompto and it just _screams_ of people who have nothing better to do. It gets weirder and weirder, until Prompto just swears off the internet. Because if it’s not _that_ group of people, it’s the people boycotting Noctis for being gay, or bicurious, or whatever it is (and honestly, Prompto’s not sure on that particular area anyway). It’s just… it’s a hot mess.

 

“Hey, uh, Prom,” Cindy says carefully, though. She’s just getting home from work, and she’s frowning at her phone. Prompto’s rummaging through the fridge. They’re out of groceries, and he doesn’t really have the money to order delivery. It’s a dilemma. He’d spent the day before visiting his uncle, thank goodness, and Cor had tried to give him money. Prompto had refused, of course. He can look after himself. It’d been a good day, anyway. Cor had taken him out for lunch, and nobody had harassed them, and for once, it was _nice._ It was almost normal. Almost like things are back to the way they were.

 

His uncle had only asked about Noctis once, and he’d quickly dropped the subject, with the exhausted look on Prompto’s face. Prompto can’t even begin to express how grateful he is, for that.

 

Of course, good memories aren’t something Prompto’s currently allowed, in this mess of a story about his oblivious life.

 

“That tone is never a good tone,” Prompto says, suspiciously, lifting his head up and shutting the fridge. He’s frowning, and Cindy’s frowning, and Prompto has a _very_ bad feeling. Why is this whole week just bad feelings?

 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but uhh… isn’t that your uncle?” Cindy lifts her phone up, and Prompto’s fucking world shatters. Because, yeah, that’s his uncle, and there’s definitely photos of their lunch date the day before, being snapped from a distance. Prompto’s clearer in the picture, and even with the blurry images, he can tell how exhausted he is.

 

But his uncle? Fuck, they have no right to drag _him_ into this.

 

That’s what does it. Prompto doesn’t care about himself, not really. He’s worn down, and he’s exhausted, and he’s angry at Noctis, but he wants to be left alone. He can ignore everything. His uncle though? His uncle’s everything. Uncle Cor was there before Noctis was, and he’s here now, when Noctis is (at least in theory, for the moment) gone as well.

 

“Fuck,” Prompto says, and all he can think, as he rushes back to his room, to grab his phone (plugged into the wall, as always) is that he needs to make sure his poor uncle doesn’t suffer the same shit Prompto’s going through.

 

He’s got his laggy phone open when he realizes he doesn’t have Ignis’s number anymore, that he’d deleted it in a fit of rage. He still has Aranea’s, though, and she’s been checking in on him. Prompto takes a deep breath, and he sucks it up, accepts the fact that just maybe, he needs some help here. He types out a quick message to Aranea, asking for Ignis’s number, and he tells himself, quite firmly, that he's _not_ having anything to do with Noctis here.

 

Not at all. Not even as Prompto sits crosslegged in bed and hugs the little chocobo plushie to his chest, waiting for a response. “Team Prompto can do this,” Prompto tells the stuffed toy, “we’ve got this.”

 

They totally don’t, but whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmm wonder who those Team Promptis fangirls are?! ;) 
> 
> sorry this chapter was delayed. i went down on a depression spiral because my job hunt is Not Going Well! nothing like realizing your experience from another country is irrelevant here in america lmfao. Thank you for sticking with me, I'll try to be more regular with my updates! i'm really really REALLY excited for the next few chapters tbh, so. :') 
> 
> I'm on twitter @thatdest, tumblr @destatree. numi is on twitter/tumblr @numinoceur ~ i really needed her help w/ this chapter so give her love too! as always, thank you guys, and #teampromptis for life~


	16. Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis gives in and asks for help, at great risk to his life.

So the good news, for Noctis, is that Prompto’s accepting some help. That’s good, right? It’s a step in the right direction, and Noct doesn’t have to obsess over the fact that he’s _totally_ ruined his maybe-ex-boyfriend’s life. It should be helping him sleep at night and everything, right? And it’s only a matter of time until they’re making up and getting past this?

 

Well, the first thing Ignis says, when he informs Noct that Prompto’s decided to let them work some magic, is “it’s on the condition that you stay out of this, Noctis, and you _will_ stay out of it.”

 

Of course, Noct can do nothing but agree there, because he can’t blame Prompto. And this is more important than his dumb feelings. It’s about keeping Prompto _safe,_ because those videos are replaying in his mind. Worse, the more Noct digs into this fucked up rabbit hole, the more he’s finding. Pictures of the tea shop Prompto works at, fangirls “camping out” in hopes of seeing him, a shaky video with Dino cornering Prompto… it’s all a little slice of hell plated up nicely and served in a basket.

 

Noct’s _really_ managed to fuck up Prompto’s life, he realizes.

 

Whatever Ignis and Gladio are doing, it’s working. Noct asks, but Ignis waves his hand and says “just concern yourself with your new roles, Noctis,” as if that’s going to do a bit of good. The days go by, and it _must_ be getting better, because at least Prompto’s dropped out of the spotlight a little.

 

Meanwhile, Noct’s just trying to keep his own shit together.

 

He’s starting to realize that Prompto _really_ wants nothing to do with him. The days tick by, and there’s all silence from Prompto’s end. Noctis _knows_ he shouldn’t text Prompto. He knows he shouldn’t send any more flowers, after that first initial caving. He knows not to show up at the tea shop, or at Prompto’s apartment, but fuck, it’s driving him absolutely _insane._

One day, he misses a fucking meeting he was supposed to go to. It’s not like he missed an actual shoot or anything – that’d be a hell of a lot worse – but Ignis still shows up at his apartment later. Noct’s half-asleep, but mostly, he just doesn’t wanna get out of bed. There’s a whole number of reasons, but mostly, it’s just _really_ hitting hard, how much he misses Prompto. Maybe it’s the fact that Noct’s going through his phone and he finds some of the dumb selfies they took over the months. He lingers on a photo of Prompto, all smiles, wearing one of Noct’s old t-shirts as they were curled up in Prompto’s bed, watching Netflix.

 

Noctis should probably delete the pictures and move on with his life. Instead he rolls over and closes his eyes and ignores all responsibility.

 

Ignis is pissed when he shows up.

 

“This is getting ridiculous,” he says, as he leans in the doorway of Noct’s bedroom. Noctis is pretending to be asleep, and Ignis absolutely is _not_ fooled. “Noctis. I _know_ you’re upset about Prompto, but you have a thing called work.”

 

“It was a _meeting,_ Ignis. It wasn’t anything important,” Noctis grumbles. He should’ve gone. He’s well aware of that. They’ve been pushing promotions for a lot of new things. Normally, Noct can juggle it all well enough. He’s been doing this stupid acting thing seriously for _years_ now. But, well, he’s a mess over Prompto. Noct’s never been this messed up about anything. He doesn’t wanna get out of bed, he’s _lonely,_ and that heartache isn’t going away.

 

“You’ve been forgetting your lines,” Ignis points out, with a sigh, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “And your acting has been _bad_ lately.”

 

“Gee, thanks,” Noctis grumbles. He’s well aware Ignis has a point. “… how’s Prompto?”

 

That’s the fucking heart of the issue, right there, after all. Noct still can’t stop thinking about Prompto, about those damn bright eyes, the smattering freckles, the blonde hair, the sound of his _laughter._ Fuck, his bed seems so big and lonely, even though Prompto’s only slept over here a couple of times. Hell, Noct had been spending a _lot_ of time at Prompto’s place, and it had started feeling more like home than his own place anyway.

 

“Prompto’s doing better,” Ignis says slowly, dismissively. “… he still wants _nothing_ to do with you. Nothing to do with me, as well, ironically. Gladio’s the only one who’s managed to sweet talk him.”

 

“Of course,” Noctis sighs. It’s always fucking Gladio. He’s tall and commanding and he _looks_ terrifying. He’s got a bit of the ‘tough love’ thing going for him too, but underneath it, Gladio’s a friendly guy, always a natural peacemaker. “Guess I need to call Gladio and get him to put in a word for me, huh?”

 

“If you honestly think that will work,” Ignis shrugs. “Get up, Noctis. Moping does you absolutely _no_ good, you know.”

 

Noctis sighs. He knows. His heart just isn’t in anything he’s doing, though. Ignis had worked hard to secure him a good lineup of roles and modeling gigs – though he hates the modeling bits – but… Noct, really, is wondering what the hell is the point? What good is fame and money and everything else, if there’s nobody to share it with?

 

Especially since that’s what pushed Prompto away in the first place.

 

“Whatever,” Noctis sighs. He tosses his phone aside, because he can’t stand to look at the pictures any more, and he crawls out of bed, heading into the shower, because _apparently_ this particular meeting he skipped out on was rescheduled and Ignis is here to personally drag his ass there. Noct’s wearing that favourite shirt of Prompto’s that he stole, the one that still _smells_ like his goddamn boyfriend, lingering traces of his shampoo and the fancy cologne Noct had bought him, the one that Prompto adored so much.

 

If Ignis notices, he doesn’t say anything. Small blessings.

 

\---

 

Gladio’s not very helpful.

 

“Will you _please_ just see if he’ll talk to me?” Noctis sighs, as they sit around on his couch, eating takeout.

 

“Nope,” Gladio says, cheerfully, scooping some noodles into his mouth. They’ve all been busy. Gladio’s been doing security detail for Prompto now, too, after all. Ignis is trying to clean up Noct’s messes still, and trying to make the internet thing blow over. It seems, now that things are quieting down some, the mess of fangirls have stopped squabbling amongst themselves, and united to the great Team Promptis cause. Noctis is still just exhausted by it all. He wants to go to sleep. He _really_ wants to back out of some of his commitments, but Ignis keeps going on about ‘career suicide’ as if Noct’s supposed to care.

 

“Gladio, c’mon. I pay you. You’re supposed to be on _my_ side,” Noctis sighs, picking at his food, eating around a few vegetables. “Just put in a good word for me?”

 

“Don’t think so,” Gladio puts his food down, for a moment, and fixes Noctis with a _look._ “I’m on the side of peace and justice. I’m staying neutral in this.”

 

“You weren’t neutral when you were covering for me,” Noctis points out with a petulant expression written all over his face. “So don’t pretend you’re all high and mighty here.”

 

Gladio shrugs. “I atoned for my sins. With a whole lot of chocolate and sweet talk. Prompto and I are good now.”

 

“Chocolate? _That’s_ why you were asking what kinda sweets he likes. Cheater,” Noctis groans, and he gives up on his food. He sets his carton down on the coffee table and leans back, head tipping against the back couch cushion. “Seriously, you two. I’m… kinda at a loss here. What the fuck do I do? He doesn’t wanna talk to me.”

 

“You merely have to give it time, Noctis,” Ignis says, quietly. “You can’t rush a broken heart.”

 

“It’s been almost two weeks,” Noctis sighs. “… I miss him, you guys.” It’s one hell of an understatement. Noct’s pretty sure that it’s obvious though, with the way his heart hurts, with the way he can’t think, can’t concentrate, can’t focus on _anything_ except fixing this.

 

Gladio sighs, and he leans in, a big, heavy hand resting on Noct’s shoulder. “Prompto’s a good kid. He’ll talk to you eventually, Noct.”

 

Noctis isn’t so sure.

 

\---

 

The next day, Noctis sits in his car outside of Prompto’s apartment building. It’s a _really_ fucking bad idea, to simply show up. He knows it is. He’s parked in the back, and he’s taken the most innocuous car he owns (which is still _way_ fancier than any other fucking cars in the lot). Noct recognizes a couple of Gladio’s guys hanging out, and thank god, the paparazzi have been chased off, as soon as the security got on Prompto’s side. Since Noctis is the one ultimately paying their bill, he’s not too concerned about being chased off, but…

 

Fuck. What’s he _doing_ here. Prompto had lost his shit, last time Noctis had seen him.

 

Noct’s not sure he can handle any more rejection. He deserves to be yelled at, yeah, to be told off for what he did, but he has a feeling Prompto will simply slam the door in his face, and he won’t give him a chance to explain himself at all.

 

Before he can make an idiot of himself, Noct’s turning his car back on, and he’s leaving the parking lot of Prompto’s building. He doesn’t turn the usual way to get back on the freeway to his house, though. That’d be the smart decision, the rational one. Noctis decides though, that he’s _just_ desperate enough to ask for a bit of help, so instead he turns the other way, heading out to the outskirts of Insomnia, to the coastal area.

 

Noct’s dad owns a really ridiculous beach house. It’s got a private, gated drive, and it’s the type of house that really, _nobody_ needs. It’s huge, with too many bedrooms and way too many bathrooms. The front foyer is ornate, with marble pillars, and a wide, arched front door. The grounds are perfectly tended to, with olive trees and tropical flowers and trimmed hedges. The whole place is perfect for a retired old movie star-turned-investment genius with way too much fucking money on their hands. Noctis had once told his dad that the house is “extra” and Regis had been quick to point out that therefore, he’s the son of extra. It had escalated into a series of bad dad jokes, before Noctis gave up.

 

Anyway, Noct keys in the code to get inside, and he parks his car out front. His dad’s schedule, lately, is largely working from home and golfing, because he’s a retired actor with enough money to buy an oceanside mansion, so what else is he gonna do? Noct’s pretty sure his father will be home.

 

He doesn’t bother to knock, simply enters the passcode to get inside, and opens the door.

 

“Dad?”

 

His dad’s place is just as ridiculous inside as it is outside. The whole house is open-concept, with marble flooring and high ceilings, arched doorways and a whole lot of windows with a perfect ocean view. Noctis makes his way through the place, past the kitchen and the master suite and all the other completely unnecessary rooms (wine cellar, private gym, bar room, etc) until he’s exiting to the back patio.

 

Naturally, Noct’s father is lounging by the pool, a book in hand, and a ridiculous pair of expensive sunglasses over his eyes. It’s the absolute lap of over-the-top luxury, honestly, and Noct’s become so fucking jaded to the whole experience that he doesn’t bother to stop and take in the ocean. There’s vast blue as far as Noct’s eyes can see, all the way to the horizon, where the darker blue ocean meets sky. The pool sits along the edge of a cliff, and there’s a set of stairs down to the private beach below.

 

“Hi, dad,” Noctis says, throwing himself down into a lounge chair next to his father.

 

“We don’t have anything planned,” his father says, closing his book and looking up. “here to steal another car? Or are you actually pretending you _enjoy_ your old man’s company?”

 

“I stole your car _once,”_ Noctis points out, with a sigh. He props his feet up on the chair and leans back, staring up at the bright blue sky overhead. “Just thought I’d stop in and say hi.”

 

“What do you want?” his father asks, though there’s a hint of teasing to his voice. “You _never_ come unless you want something.”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, “not true, dad. Don’t you start on me, too. Everyone’s against me.”

 

Regis sits up a little straighter, and lifts his sunglasses, catching Noct’s eye as Noctis rolls onto his side, the sun too bright in his face to stare up. “So, you’re here for pity, then?”

 

Maybe, Noctis thinks, a bit bitterly. He hates to admit that he’s a grown adult, coming to his dad for advice, but… well. He’s always been close with his dad, and here he is. He’s a grown ass adult, coming to his dad for advice. But Noct doesn’t really know where else to turn. Gladio’s refusing to help, and Ignis isn’t really in a position to, even if he wanted.

 

“Advice,” Noctis admits, with an embarrassed little laugh. “It’s about Prompto.”

 

 _That_ gets his dad’s attention. Regis leans forward, and he gives Noctis a _look._ “Propose to him.”

 

“What?!” Noctis groans, caught off guard, his eyes widening, just a little.

 

“That’s my advice,” Regis says, sagely, with a nod and a smile. “I like him. He’s _way_ too good for you, my idiot son. Marry that boy before the opportunity slips away.”

 

Noctis stares, incredulous for a moment. He tries to sit up, but he loses his balance, flails a little, and almost falls off his damn chair. “Uh. Dad. He’s not _speaking_ to me, how do you suggest I go about doing that?”

 

His dad frowns. “Still? It’s been two weeks, Noctis, and you haven’t made up with him yet?” He sounds both amused and disappointed, and the mix of emotion is frustrating.

 

“Kinda hard to make up when he won’t _talk_ to me,” Noctis grumbles. “He won’t see me, he won’t let me get a word in… he’s ignored all my calls, all my gifts, I went to see him at work and he got me kicked out…”

 

Noct’s father fixes him with a _look,_ and it’s the look that’s always managed to reduce Noctis to an embarrassed, naked mess. He remembers getting that look when he did something bad as a child, and, well, it’s just as demoralizing receiving it as an adult. Fuck. He shrinks back in the chair.

 

“Why would you visit the poor boy at _work?”_ Regis says, “no wonder he doesn’t want to see you. Have you ever considered just knocking on his door and letting him scream at you? You absolutely deserve it.”

 

Noctis tries to open his mouth to protest that he does _not_ deserve it… but, really, he can’t even get the words out. His dad’s right, of course. He absolutely deserves it. And hell, when he thinks about it? Getting screamed at by Prompto would be a hell of a lot better than this silence. At least it would be _something,_ maybe a step towards fixing it.

 

“Dad,” Noctis says, slowly, and he sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the chair he’s sitting on, hunching over to stare at the fancy patio floor beneath his feet. “… yeah, I fucked up. And I know it, okay? But I… don’t know how to fix it.”

 

His dad sighs, heavily, and Noctis can’t bring himself to look up. He’s counting the speckles in the floor, and for some reason, the way they shine in the sun, it reminds him of Prompto’s freckles. There’s a heaviness in Noct’s heart, one that he can’t quite shake.

 

“You’ve given him two weeks,” Regis says, slowly. “Reach out to someone who knows him. See if they have any suggestions. But for heaven’s sake, Noctis, don’t be a _diva_ about it. Just be yourself. You’re an idiot, but… you’re my son. I raised you to be a good person.”

 

Noctis nods. Someone who knows Prompto? Cindy? She’s made it clear that she wants _nothing_ to do with Noct. Luna? She’d said she was remaining neutral, and Noct’s heard rumours that Ravus is _not_ happy with his baby sister getting pulled into the drama. Aranea’s terrifying, and also made her stance well known. That leaves just one option. There’s only one other person who knows Prompto well, and… _fuck,_ that’s a terrifying prospect.

 

You do crazy things for the people you love though, right?

 

“By the way,” Regis says, conversationally, breaking into Noct’s thoughts, interrupting and pulling him out of his own head. “I saw that wreck of an interview you did. Dino’s an asshole, what the hell did Ignis think he was doing, putting you out there?”

 

Noctis shrugs. “Honestly, I think he just wanted people to feel sorry for me.”

 

Regis laughs, at that, a genuine laugh, one that makes Noctis groan and lower his head again. “Twitter is going _insane_ about it all.”

 

“Is?” Noctis lifts his head, enough to shoot his dad a _glare,_ “Dad. That’s like, so last week. You’re such a _dad,_ learn to internet. Twitter’s moved on to the Promptis memes now… there’s this one of a distracted boyfriend and they’re putting all these dumb captions over it…”

 

Regis blinks. “Promptis?”

 

“Never mind,” Noctis says, quickly, feeling the heat rise, because _oh shit,_ he really doesn’t want to be the person to teach his troll of a father about internet memes. Nope. Not at all. “I’ll fix it, dad.”

 

“You better,” Regis agrees, “I want my son-in-law back.”

 

Noctis feels like he should point out that Prompto never _was_ his dad’s son-in-law but he has a feeling it’d be words spoken on absolutely empty ears. He sighs, and settles back in the chair, and his mind is racing. Fuck, his dad’s advice is the first real advice _anyone_ has given him, after all. Even if Noctis has a feeling it’s a death wish. At least his dad’s extravagant beach house is nice. The sun is shining, and even though Noct’s wearing all black, and it’s a bit _too_ warm, it’s nice. The ocean’s catching the light as it ripples off in the distance, the wind is rustling through the trees. All things considered, it’s not a bad way to spend what are surely his last hours on this earth.

 

“By the way,” Noct’s dad says, after a moment of silence, “I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

Noctis lifts his head, and he frowns. His dad’s switched from the teasing, playful tones into something more serious, the _business_ voice he’s come to know over the years. “What’s up?”

 

“The sky,” Regis replies, lightly, and Noctis _groans,_ goddamnit, he walked right into that one.

 

“Dad—“ he starts to protest.

 

“You’re just jealous you aren’t as clever as your old man,” Regis laughs, but then he’s switching back into the serious voice. “I know your workload has been stressful lately. I wanted to ask you a favour. There’s a role I want you to play.”

 

Noctis blinks, and he lifts his head, catching his dad’s eyes. Yeah, he’s overworked. And yeah, he’s really not got any desire to pick up anything else. He can’t handle the current projects as it is, and the stuff with Prompto’s got him all messed up. But his dad has never actually asked him to do a role. Even when Noct was a minor, and he needed his dad to sign off on everything, his father’s never really pushed anything on him before.

 

“What kind of a role?”

 

Regis smiles, because he _knows_ he’s caught Noct’s interest. “Indulge my rambling for a moment. Some years back… oh, hell, it must be ten years by now, I agreed to sign on to a project a friend was writing. Your stereotypical tragic hero saves the world type of apocalyptic fantasy setting. The script had potential, but it needed work…”

 

“You’re not selling this very well, dad—“ Noctis tries to cut in, but his father waves a hand dismissively, and continues on.

 

“I _said,_ indulge me. Anyway, they didn’t know where to go with the script and it sat in development hell. But I guess it’s been picked up again, recently. I’m too old to play the protagonist, now, but they asked me to play the protag’s father.”

 

Noctis blinks. “Wait, you’re gonna come out of retirement? Why?”

 

“Sentimental foolishness, I suppose,” Regis laughs, “and a good dose of nostalgia. When you wait ten years for something, you’re willing to overlook how bad it is.”

 

“So, you’re admitting it’s bad,” Noctis sighs, “what, you want me to play the protag?”

 

Regis nods, and Noctis feels like he should point out that his dad literally _just_ told him it’s a bad movie. But… well, his father’s been retired for a long time. They’ve never acted together before, and Noctis has to admit, the idea is appealing. He’s gotten popular enough that maybe he can carry a bad script. He’ll have to throw it by Ignis, of course…

 

“At least tell me it doesn’t have a bad love story,” Noctis says, slowly, “dad, I hate those shitty tropey love stories. It’s always tragic, or one of those secret identity things, or some depressed college romance…”

 

“Don’t be ludicrous,” Regis rolls his eyes, “of course it’s a tragic love story. Everyone dies in the end.”

 

Noctis doesn’t really have an answer to that, because _of course_ his dad is asking him to star in a movie that is undoubtedly going to be a complete and utter train wreck. “I dunno, dad. Get them to send the script to Ignis, I’ll take a look at it…”

 

Noct already knows he’ll agree to it, though. Because as much as his dad enjoys trolling him, and generally mocking his very existence, they love each other a whole lot. And Noct would do _anything_ for his dad, even if it means walking to his very death to try and salvage the relationship with Prompto.

 

“Good,” his father says, amiably, “now go get my son-in-law back, Noctis. I want to plan a wedding. I want _grandchildren_ someday. You’re rich, there’s plenty of babies you could adopt…”

 

\---

 

Noctis feels very much like he’s walking to an executioner.

 

It’d taken a good deal of bribery from Ignis and Gladio to get the address. They’d only had it because Prompto had agreed to cooperate, in the first place, and Noct is pretty sure that he has absolutely _no_ right being here. Gladio had laughed a “good luck, Noct,” when they’d relented. Noctis may or may not have offered to give them a weekend off in exchange (“won’t need a weekend, when there’s nothing left of you” Ignis had said), another minor inconvenience, but here he is. He’s parked in front of a nondescript little apartment building, walking up to the front porch.

 

There’s a good deal of nerves. Noctis doesn’t really get nervous anymore, just from years of having cameras shoved in his face, documenting his every move, or just being chased around by paparazzi in general. This is different though, and his palms are sweaty, his heart thumping in his chest. Maybe Noct’s just overreacting. Most likely, he’s pretty sure he’s about to get a punch to the face.

 

Noctis rings the front bell and he waits. More likely, he’s just going to be outright ignored, he realizes, as the minutes tick by.

 

Slowly though, the front door opens. Noctis shuffles his weight around, and does his best to mask his nervousness. He’s pretty sure he just looks pathetic in comparison.

 

The man standing in the doorway is somewhat taller than Noctis is. He’s also… well, somehow, he’s younger than Noct expected him to be. Noct didn’t really know what to expect, after all, but he’d heard stories about an old war veteran uncle, and his mind had filled in the blanks. Prompto’s uncle’s features are defined, with a sharp jaw, and short-cropped salt and pepper hair that still has a good deal of brown to it. He looks a little worn though. Rough, stubbled cheeks, a few wrinkles creased into his brow, but his _eyes_ are a bright, piercing blue and they look like they’ve seen some shit. It’s immediately setting Noctis on edge.

 

“Uh, you’re Prompto’s uncle, right?” Noctis says slowly, and he hopes his voice comes out steady. “I’m Noctis Caelum. I uh- I imagine you’ve heard a lot of really bad shit about me, but… I was hoping maybe we could talk?”

 

For a long moment, Prompto’s uncle simply _stares_ at Noctis, until he’s squirming on the spot, scuffing a foot against the ground Noct feels horribly vulnerable, like a small creature that’s staring at a snake, about to get the life snuffed out of him. This was a _dumb_ decision.

 

Prompto’s uncle takes a step forward. Noctis takes a step back.

 

“You’re the idiot who’s messing with my boy’s heart,” the man says. His voice is low and accusing, and Noct’s eyes immediately hone in on the fists that are balled at his side. _Oh. Fuck._

 

“Look, I’m _really_ sorry,” Noctis says, quickly, “I… this got out of hand. It’s been two weeks and I _miss_ him and I’m really sorry for wasting your time, but I was hoping you’d help—“

 

“I have _no_ reason to help you,” Cor interrupts, taking another stop forward, until he’s towering over Noctis. The man’s intimidating as fuck, and Noctis remembers what Gladio had said – he’d refused any of the security they’d offered him. Noct can immediately see why, because hell, he’s doing a damn fine job of ensuring Noctis will never come back here.

 

Noctis sighs, “… I’ll go then. Please, just, _please_ ask Prompto to give me a chance?”

 

There’s a long silence. Finally, the man takes a step back, head inclined. “… I’m Cor Leonis,” he says, finally, and he extends a hand.

 

There’s a long moment, a _really_ long one, where Noctis doesn’t quite react. He’s frozen in place, blinking, because _what_ just happened here? Then, quite suddenly, the whole situation kicks back in, time starts again, and he’s quick to extend his own hand. Cor Leonis’s handshake is _firm,_ and he squeezes Noct’s fingers and wrings his hand rough, like he’s trying to pull his arm out of his socket. Maybe he is. Fuck.

 

“Noctis Caelum, but you already know that,” Noctis offers weakly.

 

“I do,” Cor agrees, with a rough sounding laugh. “I like your father’s movies a lot. He’s a very good actor.”

 

“Thanks, sir,” Noctis says. “I learned from the best.”

 

Cor gives Noctis a _look._ “Too bad you didn’t pick up on any of that. Come on in. We’ll have a little chat.”

 

Noctis has absolutely _no_ idea what the hell he’s getting himself into, but now it’s too late to back out. He’s not sure if Cor’s just trying to ensure that there’s no witnesses to his inevitable murder, but maybe that’s just drastic thinking. Either way, he follows Cor into his little apartment, staring down his own fucking doom.

 

Cor’s place is cozy, well put together, and well-lived in. There’s a few dishes in the sink, and some stuff scattered around. Noctis tries to be polite, but he can’t help but notice the old pictures on the fridge, held up by chocobo magnets. A younger looking version of the man standing in front of him – but rougher looking – and a chubby little blonde kid stands out most prominently, and Noct can’t quite hold back the fond smile. Prompto was a _cute_ kid, fuck.

 

“Sit,” Cor says, gesturing at the little kitchen table. “Can I get you anything? A soda?”

 

“Uh, I’m good,” Noctis says. He drags his eyes away from the photo. Looking around the place, there’s a giant movie collection tucked against the wall. Huh. Maybe he can negotiate keeping his life in exchange for a meeting with his dad. That’s a thought. Eyes scanning the walls, Noct’s gaze settles over a collection of ornamental swords that adorn the wall, and he’s pretty sure his face goes a few shades paler.  


Cor’s watching him, and he nods, slowly. “You like my swords? They’re antiques. Beautiful things. I’ve kept them in perfect condition. The blades are still razor sharp.”

 

“That so?” Noct’s voice is _definitely_ a little shaky.

 

Cor steps away from the table, reaching up and easily unhooking one of the sheathed swords. He steps back down, setting the weapon on the table, and sits across from Noctis, giving him a _look_ as he carefully unsheathes the top couple of inches of the blade. It catches the light, and yeah, it’s _sharp._

 

“My favourite katana,” Cor says, conversationally, as if he’s not pretty much brandishing a weapon at the kid who ruined his son’s life. “I’m a military vet, you know. Got all sorts of combat training.”

 

“It’s uh, _nice,_ Mr. Leonis,” Noctis replies, eyeing the blade warily. He’s pretty sure that Cor wouldn’t _actually_ hurt him, but uh, Noct’s kinda wishing he’d reviewed his insurance policy before coming here. Plastic surgery’s expensive, after all…

 

The smile Cor offers him in response is nothing short of dangerous. “So. Why are you here?”

 

Why _is_ he here? Noctis honestly doesn’t even know. He’s not sure there’s anything that anyone can do. If there’s a single person who _can_ get through to Prompto, it’s this uncle of his, but there’s no way in hell that Cor’s gonna help him. He’s already silently threatened him, without _actually_ making any real threat, and Noct’s well aware of that. Fuck.

 

“I feel really bad,” he says, slowly, a bit more thoughtfully than he normally would, “I… _look,_ I know I fucked up, and I know I’m the guy who made Prompto’s life hell but I really, really want to fix it. He won’t answer my calls, he doesn’t want to see me—“

 

“Because he’s smart,” Cor interrupts, “Why _should_ he give you a chance?”

 

It’s… well, it’s a good question, and Noctis is damn well aware that he doesn’t have a good answer. He falls silent, for a moment. Cor’s giving him a _look,_ and Noctis can’t quite decipher its meaning. Noctis isn’t exactly the most intuitive person. He thinks, sometimes, he’s okay at reading people. Prompto’s uncle though, keeps himself guarded, and Noct’s at a total, and utter loss.

 

So, he goes for honesty, because what the fuck else can he do?

 

“He shouldn’t,” Noctis agrees, quietly, “I don’t deserve it. But if he does, I _swear,_ I’m gonna make it up to him. Prompto’s my entire life, I feel like I’ve known him forever, like he’s the person I’ve been waiting fo--“

 

Noctis cuts off, abruptly, his cheeks flushing, head ducking down. He’s getting dramatic. If there’s one damn thing he’s good at, it’s being a fucking diva, and his dad had said to avoid that, right? His fingers drum restlessly at the table, and he falls into silence. Prompto’s uncle doesn’t say a word, and out of the edge of his vision, Noctis sees his fingers running over the flat of the blade of that damn sword. This time, though, the act seems thoughtful, rather than threatening.

 

Noctis sighs, and he lifts his eyes, forcing himself to meet that piercing steel gaze.

 

“I just. I really like him, sir. A lot.”

 

Cor regards him, and Noct can’t tell at all what he’s thinking. His expression is stoic. Noctis knows he’s handsome, that objectively, he’s a damn fine looking guy. Right now though, he feels like scum, like the ugliest person in the world, torn down and exposed.

 

Finally, Cor offers him a faint nod, and there’s a flick of an expression that _almost_ seems like satisfaction.

 

“Fair enough,” he says, returning the sword back to its sheath fully. “I’ll talk to him. Don’t expect anything, though. He deserves to get a chance to tell you off in person. Will give him closure, at the very least.”

 

Noctis blinks. He _hadn’t_ expected that. “R-really?”

 

Cor rolls his eyes, “what, you thought I was gonna kick your ass for hurting my boy? I’d _love_ to, don’t get me wrong, but that won’t make him happy. Prompto’s crazy about you. If you _actually_ wanna put in the effort to fix this…” he sighs. “Well, I’ll give you the chance. He was happiest around you.”

 

_Happiest. Was._

 

“I’m going to fix this,” Noctis says, “He can yell at me all he wants, if he’ll just let me _try_ to make things better, afterwards.”

 

Cor actually _laughs,_ and Noctis nearly jumps out of his chair at the sound of it. “Oh, trust me. He’ll yell at you. That boy has a temper. It takes a whole lot to piss him off, but when you do…” He stands up, and, as he passes Noctis to replace the sword back on its mount on the wall, he pauses to lay a heavy hand on his shoulder. “He’s not delicate, you know. What you did was _shitty_ , and it scared the hell out of him, but he’s been kicking ass his whole life.”

 

Noctis nearly jumps at the hand on his shoulder, and for a second, he’s about to flinch back. He’s still not convinced that Prompto’s uncle isn’t gonna beat the shit out of him anyway. He relaxes, though, and the moment passes, and Cor moves away.

 

“You’re saying he’s too good for me,” Noctis says, with a faint smile, and a hint of sarcasm. He hates that he _likes_ Prompto’s uncle so much. He’s rough around the edges, yeah, but he’s treating Noctis like a _person._ Not like some famous celebrity. And he’s got a sincerity to him that Noct appreciates.

 

“Absolutely,” Cor agrees. “He doesn’t care about your money. You can’t win ‘em with all that. He didn’t have some spoiled, glamourous life like you. Prompto’s been dealt a shitty hand, and I didn’t help with that. But he likes _you_ for some unknown reason. So, you better start being good enough for him.”

 

Noctis nods slowly. “I can do that,” he says, and he almost believes it. He’d realized really early on that Prompto didn’t care about the money stuff. And he’s known for a while that, well, he’s in _love._ The two weeks apart from Prompto have only made that clearer, even more fucking obvious, because Noctis is miserable.

 

Really, it’s probably the pathetic lovesick puppy dog sadness that’s saved him from getting his ass kicked, too. Cor follows Noct to the front door when he’s leaving.

 

“If it weren’t illegal, I probably would’ve punched you anyway,” Cor says, with another one of those quiet laughs. “Lucky for you, I don’t wanna get arrested.”

 

Noctis smiles a little, but the threat isn’t lost on him. Don’t push him, it’s saying, and don’t fuck up again. Noct doesn’t intend to, but… well. “Thanks for your help, sir. If there’s anything I can ever do…”

 

“Actually,” Cor almost looks kind, _almost._ “Introduce me to your dad sometime, will you?”

 

Noctis manages to properly smile there. "I can do that." He’s pretty sure that his dad would _love_ this guy. After all, anybody who’s willing to chew Noct out properly and call him out on his shit is an A+ in his dad’s book. And… well. Prompto’s uncle really isn’t that bad. He absolutely could’ve beaten the shit out of him. Though, he had pulled the sword on him.

 

If it gives Noctis another chance though, if it’ll open up Prompto to even the _possibility_ of talking to him, it’s absolutely worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah yeah i know everyone wanted cor to punch him, but... cor's priority is his boy prompto, and it's kinda obvious to everyone that these idiot boys are in love and just need a shove in the right direction. it was tempting though LOL. 
> 
> fun fact: reggie's beach house is modeled after one i found for sale a few miles down the road from me for a low, low cost of 55 mil. 55m and you too can have the caelum family beach home! 
> 
> next chapter is a big one!! i'm excited. you should be excited too. <3 
> 
> as always, thank you for reading!


	17. Here I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto finally gets mad.

It’s been a godawful day. Well, every day is awful, in its own way. Prompto hates to admit that he’s sorta gotten used to being spoiled by Noctis, but, well, he’s gotten used to being pampered by Noctis. He doesn’t need it, yeah. But his phone is still dead. They’ve started scheduling him shifts at the tea shop again, _finally –_ thanks to the security from Ignis and Gladio, at that – but Prompto still isn’t quite caught up on bills. He’s had to dig into his savings even more. It’s all thanks to Noctis, of course, and he won’t admit that maybe he misses _Noctis,_ too. 

 

It rained today, because of course it did. Prompto had spent a good ten minutes sitting in his crappy old beater of a car trying to get it started, just to avoid walking in the rain. Cindy’s out with Luna of all people, the two have started hanging out, so Prompto couldn’t ask for a ride. He can’t justify the money to call an uber, either, since he needs a new phone, so he walks to class in the rain. Then he walks to work, also in the rain, and there’d been _one_ too many asking him about his relationship with Noctis Caelum. Even with the security that they’ve got, that keeps the paparazzi at bay, the customers still make comments. It’s bringing in even more sales, honestly, as long as they’re not being disruptive, so it’s allowed. It’s driving him insane.

 

If Prompto has to hear about “Team Promptis” anymore, he’s going to scream, he swears.

 

So he finishes off his shift. The only highlight of the day is his uncle stopping in to pick him up from the end of his shift, surprising him.

 

“Supposed to be thunder and lightning, later,” Cor explains, as Prompto tugs off his dirty apron. He’s had to do more laundry, too, cuz Noctis has his goddamn spare one, and Prompto’s not about to buy a new one. “Wasn’t about to let you walk home in that.”

 

Prompto rolls his eyes, but he’s grateful, and his smile absolutely betrays that. “I can take care of myself, you know,” he tells his uncle. That’s really not entirely true, and the security crew that’s been following him everywhere, that’s been covering up his tracks online and shutting down the stream of attention he gets wherever he goes, that’s all a testament to that particular fact. Prompto ignores it, too. He’s trying his best to ignore the people who are watching him everywhere, too.

 

“If you wanna get into that, so can I,” Cor laughs, as they get into his rusty old pickup, rain torrenting down on them in the brief walk from the shop to the truck. “I don’t need protecting. Sent those Caelum security kids away. You did that for me, didn’t you?”

 

Prompto flushes a little, distracting himself with getting his seatbelt on and fiddling with the old radio. “Yeah. I… didn’t want them to come after you, too.”

 

“Worry about yourself, Prom,” Cor offers, as he twists in the seat, neck craned back and head tipped as he looks over his shoulder and backs the truck out. “Your heart’s in the right place, don’t get me wrong. Thank you, for that. I know you’re just tryin’ to look out for me. I’m more concerned about _you,_ though.”

 

“I’m fine,” Prompto says quickly, looking out the window as they get onto the street. It’s raining pretty hard, and people are driving slowly and carefully. He’s not fine, of course. He’s survived these past couple of weeks, but in the end, he had to accept Gladio and Ignis’s help. Ignis, he’s still mad at. Gladio… well, Prompto has to admit, he doesn’t mind Gladio so much. It’s still a really messed up situation though.

 

“You’re not fine,” Cor replies, “you’ve always been a terrible liar.”

 

Prompto sighs, and he leans his head up against the cool glass of the window, watching the raindrops spatter and run down the side. “I’ll be fine,” he insists, “just… a lot’s happened. People will eventually forget and leave me alone.”

 

“I’m not talking about _that,”_ Cor says, with a quiet laugh. “Noctis came to see me.”

 

_That_ gets Prompto’s attention. He jolts up from his place against the window, shoulders straightening as he gives his uncle a _look._ “You let him in?”

 

“Wasn’t gonna,” Cor admits, eyes darting from the road, just for a moment, to look at Prompto. “Something about him, though… he’s miserable. Prom, I think he’s actually _sorry.”_

 

“I don’t care,” Prompto replies, way too quickly. He doesn’t quite recognize the tone in his voice, either. It’s a pathetic attempt at masking how he feels, at hiding the quiver of emotion that’s rising in his stomach. His uncle’s got his back. Prompto knows that. More than anything, though, he knows Cor doesn’t lie to him. Cor’s a good judge of character, and if he hadn’t beaten Noctis into a pulp or at least scared the shit out of him so that he’d never come back… _well._

 

That means something.

 

“Maybe you should talk to him. It’s been a couple of weeks. Even if it’s to get closure,” Cor suggests, and the tone of _his_ voice is totally the wise uncle voice, something like a dad voice. It’s the only dad voice Prompto’s ever known, after all.

 

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Prompto’s still talking quickly, a kneejerk response. He knows, though, that his uncle is right. It’s been two very long weeks, and they need to just _end_ this, in the right way, damnit. Or, well, a part of him is still hopeful, but… _fuck,_ he still doesn’t want to admit just how much he misses Noctis.

 

“You should’ve punched him,” he adds, pointedly looking back out the window again. “He deserves it.”

 

“Yep,” Cor agrees, “but he needs that pretty face of his to treat my _son_ to the life he deserves.”

 

Prompto opens his mouth to speak, then promptly shuts it, and his eyes are wet, shining bright with tears, because the casual way Cor had said the words… they mean everything.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and the single word portrays every single thing Prompto doesn’t actually know how to say.

 

\---

 

So Prompto gets home. Cor offers to take him out for dinner, but honestly, he’s just wet and cold and exhausted, and way too full of emotion, so they reschedule for another day. Prompto gets inside and gets showered. The first article of clothing he picks up when he’s changing into some comfy old clothes to settle in for the night with, is somehow a stray shirt of Noct’s that survived the great purging of all things Noctis from the apartment. Somehow, too, it still smells like his ex-boyfriend, and Prompto’s filled with such harsh, conflicting emotions, somewhere between rage and utter misery, that he balls the shirt up and throws it at the wall.

 

They need groceries, too, something he should’ve considered before he’d refused Cor’s offer. So, he cooks up a pathetic frozen burrito, the type that costs a fraction of a dollar and is mostly a mush of refried beans and rice, nothing of substance, and pours a glass of water. He’s sitting on the couch, flipping through Netflix – Cindy’s account, because he’s outright deleted his profile off Noct’s account and removed the login info in a fit of rage – when the doorbell rings.

 

Prompto freezes. Cindy isn’t home, and she didn’t tell him she was expecting anyone. Prompto isn’t expecting anyone. That only means one thing.

 

He ignores the doorbell, pointedly.

 

It rings again.

 

“Prompto?” Prompto tenses at the voice sounding from the other side of the door, muffled and quiet, but there’s no fucking mistaking _that_ voice. It’s Noctis. Prompto had very specifically told Noctis to leave him the fuck alone, and here he is, ringing the bell and talking in _that_ voice, the one that has Prompto’s insides twisting in on themselves. He wants Noctis to go away. Prompto really just wants him to _go the fuck away,_ so he can get over this. He’s hurt, so goddamn hurt by all this. And, on top of that, he’s _mad._

 

And maybe it’s because Prompto’s had such a shitty day. It’s all been building up inside. The best thing to do is to ignore Noctis until he leaves. But it’s been a bad day. He hates that he’d gotten used to having _something._ He hates that Noctis thinks it’s okay to come by after Prompto had very specifically set up those barriers. He’s just… Prompto is _mad._

More than that, Cor had told him that he should talk to Noctis. That he should finally just _do_ it. Prompto’s uncle is tough love, but he’s usually right. In his heart, the one that’s swelling with a dichotomy between reason and emotion, Prompto knows he can’t keep hiding.

 

So fuck it. He climbs up off the couch, and walks over to the door. There’s a moment of hesitance, where Prompto thinks maybe he shouldn’t answer the door, and then damnit, he does anyway.

 

Noctis looks… well. Like Noctis. Casual, ruffled, a bit scruffy, and fucking _fantastic_ at the same time. It’s still raining, though the downpour has faded into a simple drizzle now, and somehow the dampness to Noct’s hair just makes him look more stupid handsome. That just makes everything worse. Prompto’s eyes narrow as he takes in his ex-boyfriend standing there, hands in his pocket. There’s a faint jolt of pleasure as he realizes that Noct’s eyes are just a little widened, that his mouth is open just a bit. He honest-to-go looks taken aback that Prompto’s even answered the door.

 

“I, uh, didn’t really think you’d answer,” Noctis admits as much, too, scuffing his sneaker against the wet, paved floor outside, “can I come in?”

 

“I guess,” Prompto shrugs, and he turns abruptly, leaving the invitation open awkwardly as he steps back inside. He doesn’t sit down on the couch though, propping his thigh up against the back cushion as he twists at the waist and watches Noctis with eyes narrowed. Prompto’s on high alert. He doesn’t know why Noct’s here, why the _hell_ he’d dare show his face around here.

 

He misses Noctis. He’s torn between screaming and throwing himself into Noct’s arms. So he goes with the more obvious choice. It’s all been bottled up for two weeks. Prompto’s been pissed, fighting off all this rage, and he’s been _helpless_ to all the shit that’s happened. And now, he has Noctis right in front of him, finally, and they’re in _his_ territory.

 

So, he explodes.

 

“The fuck are you doing here, Noctis?” Prompto bursts out as Noctis steps inside and closes the door behind him. “I _told_ you to stay away.”

 

Noctis takes a step forward. Prompto tenses, because his personal space bubble is pretty damn big here, and he absolutely does _not_ want Noctis to get much closer. Well. He does. But he _doesn’t._

 

“I keep _trying_ to apologize,” Noctis says. His tone is strange, a mixture of pleading desperation and something that resembles frustration. “Prompto, I’m really trying here and you aren’t even letting me talk—“

 

“You don’t _deserve_ to talk,” Prompto interrupts in a sudden fit of rage. He’s mad. Before, it was an okay mixture of heartbreak and anger. It was a strange, but effective mix, one that kept him hanging in the balance. But it’s been one hell of a past couple of weeks. It’s been a whirlwind of emotions that have run Prompto ragged. And he’s hurt. He’s so fucking hurt.

 

Seeing Noctis here, so stupidly blundering in, it sets off something in Prompto. It’s got a rage building up that he didn’t even know he possessed, and it’s bursting forward from his chest.

 

“Showing up while I’m at work? Going on that fucking Insomnia _talk show_ and airing our shit to the whole world?! The only good part about that was watching Dino tear you down, Noct, you _deserved that,_ ” Prompto says harshly, bitterly, and Noctis opens his mouth to talk, but Prompto doesn’t let him.

 

He’s not going to let him. Prompto’s not happy. He’s kept it all in for way too long now. 

 

“You _know_ how many opportunities you had to talk, Noctis?! You had months. Fucking _months_ to maybe say ‘hey Prompto I know this is super totally weird but I’m a movie star’ and you know what I would’ve done?! Been freaked out and gotten over it and been ‘oh okay Noct that’s fine’ and then _maybe_ I wouldn’t have my name thrown through the mud all over fucking Twitter! Maybe Dino wouldn’t have hunted me down and maybe things would’ve been okay! D’you even _know_ how many reporters have stalked me?!” Prompto’s eyes are flashing. There’s a storm inside him bursting out, and he’s aware on some level that his voice is growing steadily louder, his breath catching in his throat, but he keeps going anyway.

 

“I didn’t mean—“ Noctis tries to interrupt, as Prompto pauses to take a deep, gulping breath. Prompto’s hands are balled into fists at his sides, though, and he surges forward.

 

“Bullshit, Noctis. You’re fucking Noctis Caelum, you just _think_ you can get what you want?! That I’m going to throw myself at you because you’ve been _buying_ me stuff?!” Noct’s trying to get a word in, opening his mouth and a few syllables slipping out, but Prompto’s on a fucking rampage. His voice rises a few pitches higher and he keeps going, “I might be some fucking poor loser compared to you, but I’m not gonna let you treat me like shit, Noctis. You lied to me for _months!_ No wonder you’ve got such a shitty reputation as a slut, you can’t think about anybody but yourself—“

 

“ _Don’t_ bring the past into this,” Noct’s voice isn’t quite as loud as Prompto’s, but it’s definitely rising, too, and he’s taking a step forward. It’s a bad move, because warning bells are going off in Prompto’s head, he’s tensing and glaring fiercely, even as Noctis continues, “Prompto, that reputation I’ve got is all the fucking internet speculating about my life. _That’s_ why I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to drag you into all th—“

 

“Then _why,_ idiot, would you drag me to a stupid movie premiere?! If you’re trying to be all noble and protect me – and I don’t fucking need protecting, Noctis, I can handle my own shit – then why would you take me there?! Without _any warning!”_ Prompto throws his hands up in frustration. He’s so done. He’s been done. He’s pissed off, and Noctis isn’t _listening,_ isn’t doing shit all.

 

“Because I _thought_ you knew,” Noctis says, through gritted teeth. He takes another step forward. Prompto eases off the couch, and backs himself up another step, a silent gesture of _stay away from me._ “The dinner… you seemed like you _knew!”_

“I thought you were a damn _lawyer,_ Noctis!” Prompto’s voice is still rising, still escalating into something of a wail, “I feel like such a fucking moron, you were talking about being a lawyer with the server! And even if I _had_ known, you still should’ve told me what it was going to be like—“

 

“I _thought_ you’d be fine! I keep telling you this, it was a fucking mistake, okay?!” Noctis interrupts, and Prompto tenses, his face a strange, blotchy red, eyes wild. Noctis sounds… defeated. He sounds he’s given up, like he’s willing to simply take it, and somehow, that just makes Prompto feel worse. “Prompto, shit, I thought you’d figured it out, I’m not a damn lawyer, you think I’m smart enough for that?”

 

Prompto doesn’t respond to that, because yeah, maybe he should’ve known. But he didn’t. Instead, he just keeps on exploding.

 

“You thought I’d be _fine?_ At a giant premiere?! With all those people? Goddamn, Noctis, don’t you know me at all?! In what world would I be fine, being thrown into that?! In what world would _anyone_ normal be fine with that? Are you that fucking deluded? Noctis Caelum, too goddamn good for the commoners?! Absolutely out of touch with reality?! That’s what they say about you, y’know. That you’re a goddamn diva _whore,_ that you have no idea what the real world is like, out of your perfect bubble!”

 

Prompto’s pretty sure he could keep going, too, his fists clenched so hard his nails are digging crescents into his skin, but he pauses to breathe, all red-cheeked and wild eyed.

 

“I know what they say about me,” Noctis takes another step forward, and Prompto backs up again, his legs hitting the back of the coffee table. “It’s _not_ true, Prompto, I swear it isn’t, none of it is.”

 

“Yeah?” Prompto’s glaring daggers. His chest is heaving from the exertion of yelling, and his throat is already aching, but he’s still pumped full of adrenaline. Getting it out? It feels fucking _good._ It’s everything that’s been pent up ever since all this shit happened. “So _everyone else_ is wrong then, Noctis?! I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but your publicity stunt was _shit.”_

 

“It wasn’t a publicity stunt!” Noctis hesitates, though, and Prompto jumps back in.

 

“ ‘ _Team Promptis’? ‘Ladykiller Caelum switches teams’_? Whoever the hell is coming up with your headlines is awful. Bet you’ve made a _ton_ of money, fucking around with me, huh?! No wonder you were so willing to spend money on me. I was just a _business investment_. Funny, didn’t hear you complaining you weren’t gay when I had my dick in y—“

 

“ _Prompto,”_ Noctis takes a quick step forward, and there’s alarms going off in Prompto’s head, he tries to step back, but he’s cornered back against the coffee table and the couch, can’t get away. It’s something like being a wild, caged beast, ready to turn in an instant. “Prompto, c’mon, don’t bring that into this. I obviously _like_ you, it’s not a sex thing, fuck, I promise.”

 

“Stay the fuck away from me, Noctis, I’m warning you,” Prompto’s eyes flash, burning and bright, and Noctis hesitates, and takes a step back.

 

“Look,” Noctis tries again, a hand working through his hair, mussing it up in the back, and Prompto hates, _hates,_ how goddamn stupid appealing stupid Noctis Caelum looks, even here, even now, even as absolutely _furious_ as he is. “Anything the media said is _bullshit._ It was a mistake, and yeah I should’ve told you, but _this_ is real, this—“

 

“This?!” Prompto can’t help it. He can’t sit idly and _listen_ when everything Noctis has said is a goddamn lie. “There is no this, Noctis. I gave you your fucking phone back. I gave you the car back. I gave you the clothes. I don’t want you here. I don’t want to do _this,_ Noctis. I just want my _life_ back! I can’t even leave my house anymore, y’know. All the kids at school _stare._ People harass me at work!”

 

”And I spent months trying to _protect_ you from that! To keep you from realizing how shitty this life is!” Noctis throws his arms up, exasperated. “I got Gladio and Ignis to help! To try and fix this!”

 

Prompto’s torn between laughing and crying and screaming some more, honestly. It’s hard to say exactly _what_ emotion he’s feeling, but it’s starting to rise heavy and thick in his chest, and it’s hard to breathe for other reasons, too. “Because I’m _so_ fucking small and delicate, right? Need protecting?! That all went to shit anyway, huh Noct, because you let me have a damn _meltdown_ in front of _everyone._ I’m a meme on the internet! They called me Cinderella, and now they’re into this Team Promptis shit, and I had to suck it up and beg _your friends_ for protection! _Why_ would you do that to me, Noctis?!”

 

“I wanted to share a part of my life with you, okay?!” Noctis’s voice is rising too now, and they’re properly yelling at each other, chests heaving, faces both red and streaked with emotion, Prompto’s with some bitter, angry tears he hasn’t even realized he’s been crying. “I _want_ you in every part of my life, Prompto, you idiot, I _love_ you, okay?!”

 

There’s a bitter, half-baked insult that dies on Prompto’s tongue with the words. No. No, no _no_. That isn’t fucking fair. There’s a long moment of sudden silence, where Prompto simply stares, and then, “No. Fuck off, Noctis, _no,_ you can’t _do_ that, you can’t come in, after all your bullshit, and _say_ that, you asshole, get ou—“

 

A lot of things happen in a very short span of time though. Prompto’s head is spinning and his heart is thumping and it’s _not_ all rage now, and he hates that it’s not all anger. He hates that there’s something else creeping in, that bone-deep sorrow trickling past all the rage and the bitterness. Noct’s taking a step forward, and Prompto’s trying to push him away, trying to step back.

 

“Prompto,” Noct’s saying, and Prompto is shaking his head.

 

“Go home, Noctis,” he says, voice thick with something that might be venom, might be despair, maybe heartbreak, and is really, just a whole lot of bursting rage, “ _go home.”_

Noctis reaches for him though, and then, in a flurry of emotion, in a desperate whirlwind to get away, Prompto’s fingers are closing on the half-empty glass of water on the coffee table and he’s reaching out, trying to put some distance between them, and there’s a sudden surprised cry coming from Noctis and a pained sound on Prompto’s end and the end result is Prompto standing, trembling, with an empty glass, water trickling down Noct’s face and soaking into his shirt, running down to mess up the carpet.

 

“Did you just dump water on my head?” Noctis says, quietly, slowly, as the silence ticks between them.

 

Prompto’s fingers are trembling. He drops the glass on the carpet, and it’s a miracle it doesn’t shatter. His legs feel like jelly. Noct’s standing close enough that he could reach out and touch him. Close enough that his wet t-shirt is sticking to his chest in a way that Prompto can make out the definition of muscle underneath the drenched fabric. Just as fast as the rage had swept in, had worked into his mind, it’s all fading. It’s left Prompto feeling exhausted, weary, so goddamn overwhelmed and tired and _scared_ that he doesn’t know what to fucking think. He’d snapped. He’d lost it, and dumped an entire glass of water over his idiot ex-boyfriend’s head, had screamed until his throat hurt, and Prompto’s properly ashamed. He’s… more than that, he’s confused. And there’s a whole slew of emotions clawing their way into him.

 

Prompto shuts down.

 

“Please,” he says quietly, sinking down onto the couch, still trembling, and Prompto feels the familiar tightness in his chest, the panic slowly sweeping in, “just go home Noctis,” and then he’s burying his face into his knees and the sobs start, heavy and wracking and all-consuming.

 

Noctis doesn’t leave.

 

“Fuck, Prompto, I… _goddamnit,”_ he’s cursing quietly, and the couch shifts with his weight, though he keeps his distance. “Where’s Cindy? I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

 

Alone. Does he want to be alone?

 

Not really. Prompto’s been _alone_ the past two weeks. If it wasn’t for his uncle being a solid, reassuring presence, or for Cindy and Luna, he doesn’t really know what he would’ve done. His whole world feels like it’s collapsing, and it sucks. It really sucks. Prompto’s worked his ass off to get where he is. Even if he doesn’t have a lot, the things he has are _his._ His classes and his job, it’s a certain sense of being, a sense of belonging, even if it’s not a really important one. And then Noct and his fame swept in, and now everywhere Prompto goes, he’s reduced to ‘that kid that dated Noctis Caelum.’ He doesn’t want to be stared at. He doesn’t want _anything._

But he doesn’t wanna be alone, either.

 

Prompto just sobs harder and curls his arms around his legs and tucks his head down. He tries to choke out an answer, but he doesn’t even know what he wants to say – and the words, they don’t come out anyway. It’s hard to breathe. He can’t think. He can’t do anything but make those awful, horrible, sounds, rattling his chest. His eyes are red and puffy and burning. Everything hurts. He’s just so _tired._

 

Noctis is shifting closer, “want me to call your uncle? I can take you there, if you want, Prompto, I _swear,_ if you really want me to leave you alone after that, I will, I promise.“

 

Does he?

 

Prompto shudders violently, because Noctis said those stupid words. He said that he _loves_ him. Fuck, that changes everything, doesn’t it? Or maybe it doesn’t change anything, maybe Prompto just needed to figure it out, to work out what he wants here.

 

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell Noctis to stay, but he doesn’t tell him to go, either. Just more of those deep sobs that hurt his chest. Prompto feels like he’s going to vomit, the shitty instant burrito he ate earlier churning in his tummy, bile gathering at the back of his throat, and it’s a miracle he keeps it down. It’s messy, ugly sobbing, wet, gross sounds that echo through the living room. He can’t lift his face, and it’s not just because Prompto can’t bear to look at Noctis. It’s more than that, it’s the fact that the world is spinning, that the sobs are turning into shallow, harsh breaths, ones that just make his chest feel like it’s going to explode. Prompto’s face is burning up, and it’s not from the tears, it’s from a new, sudden, intense wave of panic, one that’s triggered by just that, the thought of being truly and properly _alone_ through all of this.

 

Noct’s arms wrap around him, and Prompto should push him away, because Noctis fucking deserves to be pushed away.

 

“I’ve got you,” Noctis says instead. His voice is a little shaky, really uncertain, but somehow warming, _sincere,_ and Prompto shifts, curls his arms tight around Noct’s middle, and buries his face into his chest, wet, cold shirt and all, and he cries for a long time. It alternates between more of those harsh waves of panic, building up steady and rough, then ebbing away into the deeper sobs that lose all meaning. Prompto cries until he doesn’t even fucking know _why_ anymore. It’s the panic, the fear gripping at him, and it’s irrational, a cycle. But it’s one where Noct’s hand is gently stroking his back, where he doesn’t say anything, just holds him through it, lets him ride it out.

 

And Noctis _stays._ He doesn’t have to stay. Prompto realizes this on some level, because what is Noctis getting out of this? It’s the two of them, alone, without all that bullshit publicity. He’s just dragged Noct’s name through the mud, screamed a whole bunch of obscenities at him, and now he’s staying to _comfort_ him?

 

Maybe he really does care. Maybe he _loves_ him, and that’s just even more confusing, adds to the mess of emotion, the turmoil that’s roiling in Prompto’s belly and washing over, and he cries there, too. And maybe he’s crying now because he’s missed Noctis, because he’s wanted to say it back, to hear it back, but now it just feels… well, it’s different, isn’t it?

 

Finally, though, the sobs die down, slowly subsiding, until he’s mostly silent, until it’s just quiet tears flowing, Prompto’s fingers curled into Noct’s damp shirt, cheek pressed up close into his chest.

 

When Prompto finally sniffles and lifts his face, he knows he’s a mess. His eyes are red and puffy, lashes wet, everything wet, nose running and face a smeared mess. His lungs burn, and his chest still throbs, and he feels like he hasn’t slept in days. Noctis is still there though, shirt a mess of snot and tears and water, but he’s _warm,_ and his arms are strong, curled around.

 

“I…” Prompto manages, when Noctis says nothing, fingers just working little circles still over his spine. Their eyes meet, and Prompto ducks his head down. There’s a lot of things he should say, here. Maybe he should thank Noctis for holding him, but it’s Noct’s fault in the first place, right? “… I shouldn’t have dumped water on you,” he settles with saying, lamely, voice cracking from the effort of it.

 

“Probably deserved it,” Noctis replies, after a moment. 

 

“Definitely deserved it,” Prompto corrects, immediately, with another rush of anger, though this time, it’s under control. “… still shouldn’t have snapped, though.”

 

“Well,” Noctis says, carefully, and he’s still stroking those little motions along Prompto’s spine, still holding him, “I shouldn’t have done a lot of things that I did. Can I stay? And we can talk?”

 

Prompto mulls that over. There’s still a good part of him that’s angry. He thinks he’s going to be angry for a while. He’s going to be hurt for even longer. But… it’s _Noctis._ Fuck, it’s Noctis, and being held by him like this? It doesn’t make anything better, not by a long shot. But it’s nice, in a way, anyway. And Noct’s here, staying through this ugly mess of a meltdown, staying through all the words Prompto’s thrown at him, and that has to mean something, right?

 

“We can talk,” Prompto agrees, after another heavy silence, and he slowly lifts his head, to meet Noct’s gaze, flushing at the intensity he’s met with. “… promise I’ll listen. But you gotta be honest with me. That’s how this works, Noctis. No more lying.”

 

“Agreed,” and Prompto’s pretty sure that Noctis sounds relieved at that, “no more lies.”

 

Prompto’s satisfied by the response. He should really untangle himself, should try to put some distance between them again. Even if he’s willing to listen to Noctis, after all, that doesn’t mean he’s about to _forgive_ him. It means just that: he’s willing to listen. Whatever happens next? Well, it depends on what Noctis has to say.

 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Prompto asks, though he still doesn’t draw away from Noctis. He hates how after two weeks apart, being pressed up against Noct’s chest feels so goddamn right. Noct’s hands are still on his back, arms tight and holding him in a warm embrace. “I wouldn’t have cared, y’know, Noctis. I like _you,_ not all the status stuff.”  


“It’s… hard to know at first,” Noct’s voice is a bit uncertain, but he’s talking. They’re talking. This is good. “I _know_ now, but… people get kinda psycho, Prom, when there’s fame involved. It took a little while for me to really figure it out, and then the hole kept kinda digging deeper, and…” he shrugs, “I really was going to tell you when we were at dinner. But you seemed to have figured it out, so…”

 

“We’re _really_ shit at communication, aren’t we?” Prompto lifts his head, and he smiles the first genuine smile he’s managed in… well, a while. Certainly, it’s the first time he’s smiled at Noctis since before this whole mess with the movie premiere. “I was pretty sure I had it all figured out.”

 

“I’m the _worst,_ ” Noctis agrees. He laughs a little though, and it’s bubbling up in Prompto’s chest too, and then they’re both giggling themselves silly over how _stupid_ this is. When they fall back into silence again, it’s a little more comfortable, a little less awkward. Still not quite there, but… well. Maybe this will be okay.

 

And, well. Maybe Prompto understands, too. He’d lived through these two weeks of fame. That’s Noct’s entire life, isn’t it? Hiding from paparazzi, trying to avoid attention, eyes on him wherever he goes? Somehow, that’s the thought that drives it all home, that makes Prompto realize that maybe Noct wasn’t trying to hurt him. Maybe that’s just how Noct’s life is.

 

“I…” Prompto takes a deep breath though, because they _are_ bad at talking. This is all way harder than it should be. It’d be easier to fall back into comfortable silence, to move on from this, but what good does it do them? He tries again. “… Noctis, you really did hurt me. I… said some shitty stuff, but the part about being hurt, that part’s all real.”

 

“I know,” Noct frowns, and Prompto finally, really, gets the feeling that just maybe, Noct is telling the _truth._ “… and I really did think you knew. Yeah, I tried to tell you way too late, you’re right, but I _swear_ I thought you figured it out.”

 

Prompto shakes his head, and he manages to keep up a little smile, even though his eyes are watering again, damnit. He’s a mess of emotions. He’s still mad. He thinks he’ll be mad for a while. And he’s still hurt, so fucking hurt, and that can only be healed with a good deal of time, maybe. But… well, Noctis is here, even though Prompto keeps pushing him away, and he really doesn’t _want_ him to go.

 

And, well, Prompto himself _had_ thought he’d figured it out. They’ve really managed to box themselves into a corner of miscommunication here, huh? He’s well aware now that they’re going to have to _talk._ To have a real, long, serious talk about everything. About Noct’s life, about his _career,_ about how fucking stupid Noctis had been, _really been…_ it all seems daunting though. Prompto’s tired, and his head hurts, and he kinda just wants this dumb fight to be over with.

 

“Dating an actor is fucked up,” Prompto admits with a shaky laugh, after a pause, “I wanna believe you, Noct, but… goddamnit, my brain is all screwy about this and I keep wondering, what if it’s just an act?”

 

“I’m not _that_ good an actor, Prom. I just look nice,” Noctis shakes his head, but he laughs too, for a moment, before his expression straightens back into something serious. “I’ve been a mess the past two weeks, I almost lost a role, I – I just can’t think straight. Not without you.”

 

Prompto chews on his lip. He looks down. He’s got a hand stroking absently over Noct’s chest, and he hadn’t even realized it. He feels gross. He’s pretty sure his face is dripping with tears and snot and sweat and his eyes have gone all puffy and swollen again. He really needs to stop ugly crying. It’s happened way too much over the past two weeks; it’s a wonder, really, that he has any tears left in him to shed.

 

“What you said,” Prompto says slowly, “about… how you feel. About me. Is that true?”

 

Prompto cautiously lifts his eyes, and Noct’s looking at him. He stares into those stormy-blue eyes, blushing, his mind short-wiring, his pulse tripping up in his chest, and Prompto thinks that it’s really not fair the way Noct’s reducing him back down to this. Goddamnit, he _loves_ Noctis. Even after this. Even though it doesn’t erase the past couple of weeks, even though his heart is yearning and aching and he wants to forget everything that’s happened, while being painfully aware that he _can’t._ He still hopes that Noct will say it.

 

And Noct’s gaze is intense, scrutinizing, has Prompto squirming a little.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis says quietly, and he breaks the gaze, his cheeks flushing as he ducks his head down a little. “It’s true, Prom. I… sorry. I blurted it out and ruined it all, but… I _love_ you. I really do.”

 

Prompto’s pretty sure, in that moment, that he’s died. Is he in heaven or hell? He doesn’t know which. He’s still fucking angry, and somehow, it’s the dumbest thing, that a love confession has him so messed up. It’s something he’s been struggling with for weeks now – and even more so, after the premiere. And here’s Noctis, fumbling and blurting the words out in the middle of an argument. And despite it being the worst confession ever, despite Prompto still being really mad, his heart is pounding out of his chest, there’s warmth spreading all through him, he’s finding it a little hard to breathe, and not from the panic this time –

 

“Can you like, say that to me again? Maybe over another one of those nice dinners,” Prompto manages to say, laughing a little, but there’s a smile on his face. A big, dumb smile, one that makes him look even more ridiculous, all tear-stained and exhausted. “Noct, that’s the dumbest, most unromantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” but Prompto leans in anyway, and he presses his lips to Noct’s, a wet, messy, teary affair of a kiss, all salty and gross. If Noctis minds, he doesn’t say anything, because he lifts a hand to Prompto’s wet cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb and cupping his face and holding him there.

 

“I’m gonna take you out for like, ten fancy dinners,” Noctis says with a laugh, as they part “if you’ll let me.”

 

“You’re lucky I love you, Noctis Caelum,” Prompto only shakes his head, and there’s a lightheadedness feeling to it all, a sudden rush of euphoria because he’s _finally_ said it. It’s not at all the way Prompto expected to say the words, to utter that particular confession. He’d had fantasies of it being a big moment, some scene of grandeur. And then, in the past two weeks, Prompto had been certain that they’d lost their shot, that it’d all been a lie, that this was all ruined and fucked up beyond all belief. And yet here he is, saying it, casually, like it’s something that they’ve known all along. And maybe, in a way, they have.

 

“Fuck, Prom,” Noctis goes in for another kiss, slow, and tender, and Prompto lets him, both arms looping around Noct’s neck and holding him there, and even though this isn’t fixed, not by a long shot, well, Prompto’s listening. He’s listening and he’s just told Noct that he loves him. That’s gotta be well on the way to something, right? “I am _so_ sorry, I… I know I don’t deserve another chance, but just let me make it up to you. I promise I’ll work my ass off to prove it to you.”

 

Prompto shifts his weight back, just a little, so that he can get a good look into Noct’s eyes, and he flushes a little, squirming under the intensity, yet again. “Noct. I just told you that I love you, I’m pretty sure that means you get another chance. Even though I’m _crazy_ for giving you one.”

 

“I’m glad that you’re crazy, then,” Noctis says. He goes in for a kiss, again, and Prompto meets him halfway, with a tangle of tongue this time, and maybe Prompto nips at his lower lip a little too rough, maybe he wants there to be a bit of lingering pain, but he doesn’t think Noct’s about to complain about _that._

 

“Me too, Noct. For once,” Prompto agrees, as they part. There’s a moment of silence, where Prompto’s wondering what comes next. Should he ask Noctis to stay? Is that too much, too soon? Prompto’s well aware that he should be making Noctis work his ass off to get back on his good side. He should tell him to go home, that he’ll call him when he’s good and ready. But Prompto also knows that he’s _missed_ his goddamn boyfriend. That the second he has Noctis out of sight again, he’ll be itching to see him. This is a fucking mess.

 

“Can I stay?” Noctis asks slowly, a little cautiously, “I can run you a bath. I can go, too, if you want – but uh, I kinda brought your phone back… and some of your stuff… just in case you wanted it…”

 

Prompto frowns. The stuff was the last thing on his mind, at least at the moment. Though maybe there’s a hint of guilt, because he’s _definitely_ missed the phone, and the car. Maybe some of the clothes, too, because Prompto’s grown a little bit fond of the nice, comfy sweaters and new jeans and soft shirts that Noct bought him. Okay, so the stuff is nice. And okay, maybe that’s _one_ aspect of this ‘actor boyfriend’ thing that isn’t so bad. Apart from the raging, uncontrollable lie, of course.

 

“I don’t really feel so bad taking it back, now,” Prompto says with a laugh, “… not to make it weird, Noct, but dude, you’re probably _loaded,_ huh?”

 

Noctis gives him a _look_ , one that’s somewhere between exasperation and amusement. All he can do is shake his head. “Prompto, you’re _just_ realizing this? Why do you think I’ve been _telling_ you it’s not a big deal.”

 

“People say that _all_ the time,” Prompto tries to argue, even though really, there’s never been any doubt that Noct’s got money. He’s been letting Prompto drive around his Maserati. And that’s ignoring all the other stuff. He wants to point all that out, that Noctis, after all, _lied_ about his job, and so it wasn’t like he _knew…_ but he lets that slide, for the moment, focusing on more pressing issues.

 

Oh. Fuck it. It’s been a goddamn _long_ two weeks. It’s been a long two weeks, and yeah, Prompto’s hurt, but Noctis is _here._ Even if he’s tried to push him away, even if he’s told himself, firmly, that it’s over? Prompto doesn’t want it to be over. He’s in love with stupid Noctis Caelum. Even his goddamn _uncle_ has been telling him to talk to Noct, and here they are, _attempting_ to work things out.

 

Why not give Noctis the chance?

 

“If you really wanna make all this shit up to me,” Prompto says, and he goes for it, because whatever. Screw it. “then stay.”

 

“Fuck,” Noctis says, and Prompto can practically feel the shift in the air between them, the rise of heat in Noct’s body that has him outright shivering and pressing closer, “c’mon, Prom, there’s nothing I want more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhh!
> 
> sorry for the delay. i've actually had a good deal of this chapter written for ages and it was SO FUN TO WRITE, you don't think prompto would scream at noct about this? FITE ME. anyway, we had a few details to hash out and had some IRL stuff going on and now we're back on track! you can find me on tumblr @destatree, twitter @thatdest, and numi @numinoceur. thanks for indulging us these past 17 chapters!
> 
> welcome to the 100k club, celeb AU. <3


	18. See the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto’s pretty sure that makeup sex is probably a thing for a very good reason. Might clear their heads. And, well, he’s maybe also thinking with his dick right now.

The whole idea of Noctis getting a bath going for Prompto is quickly scrapped when Noctis seemingly remembers the size of Prompto’s tub. “I’m gonna run you a shower,” Noct says, and Prompto’s happy enough to let Noctis lead the way, for him to get the water running to an acceptable temperature. There’s a moment of strange shyness that overtakes him, when he carefully turns away from Noctis to strip out of his lazy clothes. He’d just showered after work, and his hair is still goddamn damp, but after that ridiculous cry session, Prompto feels wrung-out, exhausted, and a total, utter mess of a creature. That suspicion isn’t far from the truth, either, he realizes with a groan when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His face is gross. The fact that Noct’s been _kissing_ his gross face makes him want to curl up in a corner and die.

 

Noct turns to leave, to give Prompto privacy, and that’s probably the right thing to do. This entire relationship of theirs, though, has been a whirlwind. They’d fallen for each other, fast, and Prompto’s not about to draw back now. Those two weeks alone? They’ve driven him mad.

 

“Hey, stay,” Prompto says, with a new spread of flush over his cheeks, reaching out to grab Noct’s arm.

 

“You sure?” Noctis tips his head, and the _look_ he’s giving Prompto, all uncertainty, for once in his goddamn privileged life, it’s a rush of emotion, of _power,_ of a whole lot of things. Prompto nods.

 

“Yeah. I… missed you, Noct,” Prompto admits, and they share a moment of shy smiles.

 

Noctis of course, looks flawless, when Prompto catches a glimpse of him in the mirror. He’s all lean, delicious muscle, and he’s tugging his t-shirt off over his head when Prompto happens to look. He gets a nice view of Noct’s arched back, shoulders flexing, pale skin stretched taut, and he has to look away and take a deep breath, because damnit, Prompto’s not about to put out. At least not _that_ easily. He definitely hasn’t dismissed the idea of some make up sex, but Noct’s working for it, damnit.

 

“Come on,” Noct offers a hand, and Prompto realizes that they’re both naked. Damnit, Noct’s naked and he looks _good,_ and Prompto’s fingers are itching. The only reason he isn’t half-hard, he’s pretty sure, is because emotions are running so goddamn high. Because he’s still really goddamn mad. He hasn’t touched himself in weeks, either, too pissed at the thought of jerking it to thoughts of Noctis.

 

Noct is a perfect gentleman though, and Prompto carefully takes his hand, lets himself be guided into the shower. The water is hot warm, but not too hot, comforting and soothing against his swollen, puffy face and red eyes. Noctis curls an arm around Prompto’s waist, pulls him back-to-chest, and there’s another little moment between them, a shiver running chills down Prompto’s spine, all the pent-up need and desire and _stress_ easing away a little.

 

“Honestly, I didn’t think we’d ever do this again,” Noctis confesses, his face pressing into Prompto’s shoulder from behind. Prompto sighs a little, at that admission, and somehow, it makes him feel a bit better. To know that Noctis, honestly, thought this wasn’t salvageable, somehow, gives Prompto some of the power back. It makes him realize that really, Noctis _knows_ he’s fucked up. That shouldn’t be as comforting as it is.

 

“I didn’t either. Still not convinced you deserve it, Noctis,” Prompto leans back against Noctis though. The feeling of Noct’s arm curled around his waist is good. His weight is comfortable, and _hell,_ it’s breaking through all of the barriers he’s carefully erected over the past week.

 

“I don’t deserve it,” Noctis agrees, but he’s pressing a kiss into Prompto’s shoulder, something tender and slow and endearing. Prompto sighs, relaxes into the touch for a moment, but his mind is still rushing. He’s still uncertain. A whole lot has happened, after all, in the past couple of weeks. His entire life has been turned upside down. Noctis _lied._ Even if he’d tried to come clean, there had been that initial period where, as far as Prompto can tell, he’d actively hidden the fact of who he is.

 

And yeah, Prompto thinks he understands, after the hell he’s gotten, but… he thinks it’ll be a while before he can fully trust Noct again. He’s trying to keep some of the barriers up, even as they crack and tumble down, but damnit, he’s _trying._

 

Slowly, Prompto draws away just a little, enough to sidestep and turn around so they’re facing each other.

 

“It’s gonna take a while, Noct,” Prompto admits, quietly, and he’s proud of how steady he keeps his voice. Noctis looks _good_ like this. He always looks good, fucking movie star that he is. Even with the water flattening his hair down, and his eyes still _searching,_ locked onto Prompto’s with that damn uncertainty. It’s the quiet hesitance that Prompto loves the most, he thinks.

 

Noctis nods, slowly, and his fingers knead down over Prompto’s back, settling at the base of his spine, working away some of the tension that’s built up over the weeks. It feels good. “… I know. I swear, Prom, I’m _sorry,_ and I won’t stop making it up to you.”

 

“I’m probably gonna yell at you some more too, before this is all over,” Prompto adds, with a quiet little laugh. All the emotion is wrung out of him for now, but Prompto has a feeling it’s still down there, and that it’ll slowly bubble up again.

 

“I know that, too,” Noctis agrees. He reaches to the side, frowning at the realization that all of the fancy products that had migrated into Prompto’s shower over the months are very pointedly missing. “… dude, you even threw out my _shampoo?”_

 

“It reminded me of you,” Prompto admits, and now it seems a little bit silly. It had, after all, been very nice, very fancy shampoo that made his hair feel perfect. Okay, so maybe Cindy and Luna had been right. Maybe he should’ve kept some of the stuff.

 

“I totally got the full purge treatment, huh?” Noctis seems torn between humiliation and amusement, and Prompto laughs, going for the cheaper shampoo he’d reverted to, without his extravagant boyfriend to spoil him over those weeks.

 

“You were definitely the dreaded ex,” Prompto manages a laugh there. Okay, so maybe he’d gone full ‘destroy the evidence’ mode but he’d been justified.

 

“ _Were,”_ Noctis says, thoughtfully, tipping his head. “So I’m back to regular boyfriend status?”

 

Prompto rolls his eyes, and draws away from Noctis enough to hold a soap bottle out. “Well we are naked in my shower.”

 

Noctis accepts the bottle, dumping some of the product on his hands and lathering them up, swiping a bit of foam across one of Prompto’s freckled cheeks. It makes Prompto squirm a little, the action both delicate and playful, and it makes him feel a little bit more like himself. He’s _missed_ their relationship. He’s missed their easy dynamic, the way they joke and mess around and simply _get_ each other, when it’s just the two of them.

 

“Dunno. Maybe I’m just a slut for you,” Noctis teases, with a wry little smile, as he drags his soapy fingers across Prompto’s cheek, wiping away the salt of the tears that have dried there.

 

Prompto feels his stomach jump into his chest, and he groans. “… fuck, I said that, didn’t I? I’m _sorry_ Noct, but with your reputation, and everything that happened—“

 

“It’s all rumours. I meant what I said,” Noctis says, firmly, and he tips his head, the look he’s offering Prompto one that’s absolutely certain, all of that prior hesitance fading away. “… we’re gonna talk about this. A lot. I’ll… tell you anything you want to know. About everything.”

 

Prompto nods, slowly. That seems like a good start. He’s got a million questions, now that the initial rage is gone, now that he’s slowly working over the fact that just _maybe,_ Noctis just likes him for who he is. And that maybe the Noctis he’s gotten to know is the real one, all of that ridiculous mud-slinging social media shit aside.

 

“Later, though,” Prompto says, and he sighs, tipping his head back as Noct’s fingers drift down over his throat, to work at lathering up his chest. “I know we gotta talk, but… I’m _tired,_ Noct, I just want to… ignore it all for now.”

 

It’s not healthy, but his head hurts, and he’s tired, and the panic attack really has taken a lot out of him.

 

“Whatever you want,” Noctis agrees, “always, Prom. Whatever you want.”

 

\---

 

They get settled into Prompto’s bed, after the shower, skin still wet, the sheets clinging to their bodies. Noct’s clothes are still wet, but Prompto tosses him a pair of his shorts, and they curl up together, Noct’s chest pressed up against Prompto’s back.

 

Prompto has _missed_ this. So goddamn much. It hits him head-on the second they’re pressed close, and it’s such a stark reminder that he’d spent so many nights alone in this bed, unable to sleep, questioning their entire relationship.

 

They put a movie on, and Prompto quietly snuggles back into Noct’s chest. Noctis has a hand draped over his hips, fingers stroking little patterns over Prompto’s belly, right above the band of his pants. Prompto doesn’t quite know how he feels about it. It’s idle, no real great amount of effort put into the touch, but it has him squirming, just a _little._ He’s sensitive, and Noctis hasn’t touched him, and even though Prompto’s not entirely sure what direction they should be going in, here, his body’s responding on its own. Each brush of the pad of Noct’s fingers over his hypersensitive, damp skin is a little jolt of heat, one that spreads across his skin, gathers there, and settles between his thighs.

 

Prompto makes a quiet, breathy sound when Noct’s fingers drift over the jut of a hipbone. He’s pretty sure he’s put a few pounds on over the past couple of weeks, from the poor eating, but it’s hard to _really_ care. Noct’s already showered with him, after all, and seen everything.

 

“You okay?” Noct says, quiet, his breath a quiet heat against the side of Prompto’s neck, his face is pressed so close.

 

Prompto takes a deep, shuddering breath. His cock is half-hard, pressing up against the fabric of his pants. The need is thrumming through him, his heart beginning to race a little too fast. He hopes his cheeks aren’t flushing, and that he’s not squirming as much as he thinks he is.

 

“Yeah, it’s just… feels _good,”_ Prompto admits, quietly.

 

Noct’s fingers pause, just for a moment, hovering over the curve of Prompto’s pelvis. “Should I stop?”

 

It’s a loaded question.

 

Prompto’s pretty sure he needs time to breathe, time to evaluate exactly where things are going. He should probably still be angry. He _is_ still angry, he’s just also exhausted and confused and goddamn _needy._ And the need is clouding his mind, right now. It’s been weeks, and their sex is _always_ really good.

 

More than that… Prompto’s pretty sure that makeup sex is probably a thing for a very good reason. Might clear their heads. And, well, he’s maybe also thinking with his dick right now.

 

“Don’t stop,” Prompto breathes out, before he can second guess himself. “I… Noct, I wanna feel _good.”_

 

Noct’s face is still pressed close, and Prompto damn well hears how his breath hitches, how Noct’s fingers tremble ever so slightly against his skin. Fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing Prompto’s ever experienced, or at least, in the moment, that’s how it feels.

 

“Prom, babe,” Noctis says, and the tone of his voice has gone quiet, rough with a desire that’s creeping up on both of them, wrapping them up and drawing them away from everything that’s happened. Or, hell, maybe it’s embracing everything that’s happened, channeling all that rage and bitterness and frustration into something more tangible. “All I want is for you to feel good.”

 

“Yeah?” Prompto hums quietly, and he’s absolutely rocking his hips forward, pressing into Noct’s hand a little more urgently. When he settles back, he can feel Noct pressed up against him, half-hard, definitely interested, and it has Prompto’s whole body singing. There’s a certain appeal that Noctis _wants_ him, that after all this, Noct’s the one who came crawling back, he stayed through everything Prompto threw at him, and he’s half-hard, just from _touching._

 

It makes Prompto feel… well, loved. Powerful. Somehow, it makes him feel like he’s in control of this situation.

 

“Better start making things up to me, then, Noct,” Prompto teases, a little more confident, and that’s all the invitation Noctis needs.

 

Prompto sighs as Noct’s lips latch onto his neck, working wet kisses over skin that’s suddenly desperately sensitive. It’s been so _long_ and the desire just hasn’t been there, all pushed away by the anger. Now, though, there’s blood rushing, and his heart is already thumping in his chest. It’s only been two weeks, and Noctis _knows_ how to touch him, to nip at the shell of his ear and have Prompto outright writhing. The hand on his pelvis is still stroking, dipping barely lower, fingertips brushing under the band of his pants, and it’s _not_ enough. Prompto’s impatient, and he’s got half a mind to whine. But Noctis _owes_ him, damnit.

 

Noctis doesn’t seem to mind, either, because he’s dragging his tongue along Prompto’s ear, nibbling at the lobe, ducking back to kiss the sensitive spot behind. Prompto shudders, and Noct’s responding laugh is low, breathy, sending _another_ shiver down his spine. It’s enough that Prompto chases the sensation with another roll of his hips, grinding the swell of his ass back against Noct’s half-hard erection, and Noct's laugh is chased away by the quiet moan he elicits. It's another rush of power, of control, and somehow, it makes Prompto feel a bit better.

 

"You're gonna make me work for this, huh?" Noctis mumbles, and he absolutely doesn't sound upset by that prospect. On the contrary, Prompto's pretty sure he's somewhere between arousal and amusement. Maybe a little intrigued, too.

 

"Mhmm," Prompto agrees, and, a little shamelessly, he rocks his hips back again, and sighs, pleased, when Noct meets him halfway, the swell of his cock sliding along the cleft of his clothed ass.

 

Prompto doesn't complain, though, when Noct's lips go back to doting attention on his skin. He kisses the spot behind his ear again. The hand that isn't on Prompto's hip, stroking, lifts to card through his wet hair, slow and gentle and affectionate. It's warm, and Prompto feels oddly safe, comfortable, even though Noctis still sure has a hell of a lot of making up to do.

 

Noctis sighs when Prompto tips his head to the side, and his lips start working down, slowly, over the line of his exposed neck, pausing to nibble at the junction of throat and shoulder. It's a sensitive spot. Noct, damnit, he knows _all_ of Prompto's sensitive spots, and that's another rush. This is all about his pleasure, after all.

 

"You know," Noctis mumbles, neck craning, the angle a little awkward, as he drags his tongue over Prompto's clavicle, "I'm a hard worker. Don't get famous doing nothing."

 

"Dunno, Noct," Prompto says, even as he's shivering again, feeling the heat pooling in his belly, his erection full and pressed against the front of his pants now, "reality stars don't really do anything."

 

Noctis laughs, and he's so close, the vibration tickles against Prompto's skin. "You've said a whole lot of things to me tonight, but I think that's the _worst_ insult."

 

Prompto laughs, and it's a rush, all warmth and playful banter and goddamnit, it's a whole lot of _love_ too. "You're such a jerk, Noctis."

 

"Sure am," Noctis agrees. He pauses, nuzzles his cheek into Prompto's shoulder, and the little gesture of affection takes Prompto by complete surprise. He _smiles,_ and there's another roll of hips, another press back against Noctis. They're both already fully hard, Prompto realizes, and it's almost pathetic, if it weren't for the fact that it's really fucking _hot._

 

For his part, Noctis seems happy enough to take control of the situation - as much as Prompto's letting him, at least - and Prompto's happy enough to simply _enjoy_ it. Noctis presses lazy-wet kisses over his freckled shoulder, back over to lave his tongue over the back of his neck, and that's another sensitive spot that Prompto didn't even realize he had. He writhes and shudders and his cock throbs in his pants when Noct's lips tease him.

 

"Noct," Prompto says, and he barely even realized he was saying anything at all, until the name's falling from his lips. _"More."_

 

There's a brief pause, and then Noct's hand is slowly slipping further down, dipping fully into the band of Prompto's pants. Even that motion is deliberate, fingers working along the sharp curve of pelvis. When his fingers brush over the base of Prompto's cock, they _both_ sigh, and somehow, that's just as fucking hot as the actual touching is. The realization that Noctis is getting off on just _touching_ him, it has Prompto biting his lip and his hips lifting eagerly into the touch.

 

"Missed you, y'know," Noct's voice is quiet, _thoughtful_ even, in Prompto's ear, as his fingers curl properly around his cock and give a few of those rough, heavy strokes that Prompto loves so goddamn much. He's already achingly hard, and his pants are ruined, wet where the leaking tip was pressed against the fabric. Noct's taking his time, too, and even though Prompto _really_ wants to beg him to speed it up, he's enjoying this, too, savouring it.

 

"Missed me, or my dick?" Prompto manages to tease back, even though his voice is a little shaky as Noct relaxes his grip a little, thumb tracing over the tip of his cock, gathering the precome pearling there and spreading it over his aching flesh. It feels good, almost too good, with each dip into the slit making his hips jerk forward of their own volition. Prompto's pretty sure Noct could give him a dozen or so solid strokes and he'd be coming all over his hand, and _yeah_ he wants to get off, but he wants Noctis to work for it.

 

"Both," Noctis says, a little belatedly, after a bit of a pause. Or maybe no time passed at all, and Prompto's all caught up in his head. Noct's fingers are running lazy and slow along the vein underneath his erection though. It feels good, like fire coursing through his veins, and the pit of desire is all twisted in Prompto's tummy, wrapping him up and drawing him away from the world. It's enough that he could get lost in it, and Prompto decides, quite suddenly, that he wants to.

 

"Fuck, Noct," Prompto manages, and then he's twisting a little, craning his neck back to catch Noct's lips in a deep kiss. It's a _real_ one, their first proper kiss in weeks, a clash of heated lips and roaming tongues. Noctis almost moans, but it's muffled by Prompto's tongue slipping into his boyfriend's mouth, and then they're both lost to the heat of it. It's all wet sounds and a tiny, barely audible whimper when Noct's hand dips lower, lazily palms Prompto's balls, teases and tugs at them until he's oversensitive. Prompto's panting and gasping when the kiss breaks, his cheeks flushed bright with desire, his eyes lidded. Noctis, too, looks _needy._ Fuck, everything about this moment is somehow perfect. Distantly, Prompto's still mad. He's still really goddamn aware that they need to talk and fix their shit.

 

He's well aware that this doesn't magically resolve anything.

 

But his cock twitches and drools another strand of precome, and Noct's fingers are wrapping around him again, stroking slow and firm, and Prompto forgets all of that again, just for the moment. It's only details, after all.

 

Noct's lips are working over his shoulder again, and Prompto's suddenly aware of Noct's other hand, slowly sliding down his side, tracing the dip of his waist and the flare of his hips and settling right against the jut of bone.

 

"You want to?" Noct asks, quietly, against his skin, and Prompto doesn't need to ask _what_ he's talking about. He knows. And yeah, he's already made that fucking decision.

 

"I want you," Prompto breathes back, and he absolutely _does._ He’d been hating himself over that particular fact only hours ago, but now it’s hard to care about anything but the feeling of Noct’s erection solid and pressed into the curve of his ass, or the way he swears he can fucking feel Noct’s heart thumping against his back. They’re so close like this, so intimate, it’s almost enough to pull his breath from his lungs, and fuck, Prompto wants _more._

 

Noctis nods, and there’s a moment where Prompto’s eyes snap open and he makes a quiet sound as Noct draws away, climbing up out of the bed, but the protest dies on his lips with Noct’s words.

 

“Usual spot?”

 

Oh. Right.

 

“Yeah,” Prompto admits, with a quiet laugh, and there’s a moment of loathing where he hates how suddenly _empty_ his bed feels again, as Noctis fumbles through the drawer and comes back with the lube. Prompto uses the opportunity, at least, to shimmy out of his pants, and he’s happy that Noctis slips his off, too.

 

The emptiness fades when Noctis leans in close again, his arms curling around Prompto’s waist, dragging him back so he’s fully pressed up against the solid warmth of his boyfriend’s chest. There’s a long moment where they simply stay this way, one of Noct’s hands splayed over Prompto’s belly, the other stroking at his hip. Like this, Prompto’s aware of _everything,_ of the rise and fall of Noct’s chest, the throbbing of his erection trapped between them, the quiet puff of his breath against his skin as Noctis kisses lines over his shoulder, again and again, a silent mantra, something that screams _everything_ Noct’s been feeling over the past two weeks.

 

It’s been a long fucking two weeks.

 

Prompto maybe comes one step closer to forgiveness, or maybe that’s his cock speaking, but he sighs and slides a hand of his own down. Their fingers curl together, momentarily, over the light definition of his stomach, and then Prompto’s reaching for the lube instead, settled on the bed next to them, and Noctis takes the hint when he dribbles the messy liquid over his fingers.

 

They’re going to make an absolute mess, as usual, but neither of them particularly care, not when Noct’s fingers work between them again, slipping back, between the cleft of Prompto’s ass.

 

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Noct breathes, two fingers slow and lazy as they circle in between, slowly working Prompto open. It’s been a while, but Prompto’s instantly relaxing, pressing back against Noctis, sighing as the slickness works into him, spreads him open. It’s instantly satisfying, even with the stretch and the slight ache that accompanies it. Noct knows how to work him through it, too, and there’s a crook of his fingers and a _jolt,_ a rush of heat that has Prompto’s whole body shaking, has him feeling like he’s on fire, like he’s absolutely burning up. He wants to say something, but all he can do is moan, hand reaching back and gripping rough at Noct’s thigh.

 

“ _Noct,”_ is all that comes out, when Noctis relents a little, fingers working deeper and spreading and easing him further. Prompto’s whining when the third finger goes in, and this time there _is_ a deep ache, one that Noct’s lips chase away with more of those wet, affectionate kisses over his shoulder, tongue working hot wet trails and playing connect-the-dots with his freckles.

 

“You’re _perfect,”_ Noctis breathes out, in response, with another rough press to Prompto’s prostate, and all the pain’s forgotten, because it feels too damn good. Prompto rocks his hips back, fucks himself on Noct’s fingers, and his cock is flush against his belly, eager for more stimulation, for more friction in all the right places.

 

“Make me _feel_ perfect,” Prompto breathes, and he flushes a little, from more than arousal. It’s all he needs to say though, because Noct’s slipping his fingers free. Prompto tips his head to catch Noct’s lips, and there’s more fumbling, a bit of awkwardness, as more lube gets between them, some dripping down Prompto’s ass, some getting on Noct’s stomach, as he slicks himself up.

 

It doesn’t matter though. Nothing matters, and the whole world fades away, when Noctis slips a hand between them, thumbing over Prompto’s stretched hole, and then he’s lining up, and he’s _inside,_ cock sheathed in one deep, steady thrust. Prompto’s not sure if he’s the one gasping, or Noctis is, or maybe it’s both of them. It’s not entirely pleasure at first, of course, but Prompto leans back, head tipping back to settle on Noct’s shoulder. He can feel Noct’s stomach clenching, can feel the way he’s twitching and throbbing, fully buried to the hilt, and Prompto can’t remember the last time he felt so _close_ to Noctis. Maybe this is the first time he’s truly experiencing him.

 

“Fuck,” Noctis mumbles, when he starts to move, drawing his hips away just a little ,then thrusting back, deep and smooth. Prompto gasps, and he reaches back, gripping at Noct’s hip, just as one of Noct’s arms curls around him, fingers stroking over his stomach. “Prom, _fuck.”_

 

There’s no coherent words after that. Prompto gasps when Noct’s fingers run lazy over the light definition of his belly, and all he can do is rock his hips back, grinding into the slow pace Noct’s setting. The angle’s different, and they’ve never done it like _this_ before. It’s slow and gentle and intimate, more than rough and frantic. It’s perfect, and honestly, it’s everything Prompto’s been craving.

 

Prompto whines when Noct’s hand slides to his hip, grips a little rougher, the pace picking up. Each thrust has him going deep, until they’re pressed as close as they can be. It’s all strangely vivid little details, the slap of skin when Noct’s balls press against his ass, the sharp jolt of pain when his fingers dig just a _little_ too deep into the curve of his hip. Noctis is gasping, soft and quiet against his skin, breath hot, lips wet and messy as he keeps working more of those kisses. They’re increasingly needy, and both of them are panting, sweating a little from the effort. Prompto’s twisting back, stealing kisses when he can, only to break off to gasp for breath when his head starts swimming and his neck starts to ache. The need’s building, slow but steady, burning up and threatening to devour him.

 

“Please,” Prompto realizes he’s begging, when Noct’s hand slips down to his thigh, to curl around and lift one leg up. The angle’s deeper now, and each roll of hips has Noct’s cock sliding in, rubbing raw against his prostate and sending little tingling bursts of pleasure that explode in Prompto’s brain, sending waves all down his spine. His cock’s hard and dripping against his belly, and he feels _vulnerable,_ exposed, and yeah, absolutely perfect.

 

“Prom, I _love_ you,” Noct’s voice is barely audible, and his thrusts are more frenzied now. Prompto can feel how close Noctis is, by the way he’s all hot and throbbing inside, by the way the jerking of his hips is erratic. Noct’s breath is labored, and his grip is unsteady as he holds Prompto spread open. The _words,_ they’re almost enough to make Prompto come on the spot, because Noct _loves_ him, and it’s so much, it’s _perfect,_ they’re here and they love each other and does anything else matter, in this moment?

 

There’s another rough thrust, and Prompto _whines._ He shifts a little, throwing his leg back over Noct’s, holding himself open, and Noct’s snaking his hand back down, curling it around Prompto’s precome slick cock, giving him rough, satisfying strokes.

 

It’s all over in a sudden rush. It’s too much for Prompto’s exhausted mind to process. He trips over himself, the rough friction gripping his cock and stroking, the way Noct’s fucking into him with those deep, perfect thrusts that bump against his prostate. It’s Noct’s lips on his neck that do it though, funny enough, because Noct’s stilling kissing him, worshipping, quietly running lips over the back of his neck, his shoulder, whatever he can reach, again and again.

 

Prompto’s pretty sure he’s gasping out Noct’s name when he comes, spurting wet and messy between them, all over Noct’s hand. His whole body’s shaking, trembling, like the two weeks of torment are fading away with his release. Everything fades to white and the world fades out, everything gone except the feeling of Noct still inside, still thrusting, hot pressure that’s sending painful-pleasure waves all through him. He’s overstimulated and messy and _tired,_ and all Prompto can do is ride it out, gasp through his orgasm.

 

Noctis moans, Prompto’s name on his lips, when his hips stutter and his thrusts still and he comes in a burst of heat that Prompto feels all the way inside. It’s satisfying, has him gasping again, his cock still twitching and drooling against his belly even as Noct releases it. He hasn’t gone soft yet, and the pleasure is still ebbing through him.

 

Prompto feels like he’s floating, when Noct’s motions finally fully still. Slowly, he withdraws, Prompto’s leg falling back down to the bed, and there’s a rush of sticky mess pooling between Prompto’s thighs, one that neither of them really seems to care about, only mildly acknowledging. Neither of them speak, not for a while. Prompto really has no concept of time here – he only knows that he feels _good,_ fully relaxed for the first time in so long, his body shaking and pleasantly aching and stretched open.

 

Noctis curls his arms around him, and neither of them seem to care, either, when his fingers play through the pooled, cooling mess that’s coating Prompto’s belly. It’s kinda gross, honestly, but they’re both basking in the afterglow that comes from a _well_ needed fuck, one that’s releasing just as much pent-up emotion as it is rushing hormones.

 

Prompto tips his head, and nuzzles back into Noct’s neck, sighing at the way Noctis tightens his arms around him in response, holding him there.

 

“Just so you know,” Prompto says, after a long moment, “I’m still mad at you Noctis. You’re not forgiven yet.”

 

Noctis laughs quietly, shaking his head and ducking down to press another kiss to Prompto’s shoulder. “Trust me. I know. Don’t have to tell me.”

 

“I’m gonna tell you, though,” Prompto replies, and he manages a smile now, one that’s _mostly_ warm, but with a bit of a threat to it, too. “You’re _never_ going to hear the end of this, Noctis. Years from now, I’m gonna be telling people about the time my dumb boyfriend decided to pretend he wasn’t famous…”

 

Noctis feigns a pained sound, even as he gives Prompto a squeeze again. “Years from now? You can’t say you haven’t forgiven me and _then_ talk about years from now in the same breath, you know.”

 

“I can do whatever the hell I want,” Prompto laughs, but his voice is warm, and teasing, and he's not sure he entirely means it, “because I’m mad at you.”

 

He can’t quite see Noctis at this angle, but Prompto’s pretty sure he can practically _hear_ the eyeroll he gets in response. “We should probably talk, huh?” Noctis says, slowly, fingers rubbing lazy circles over Prompto’s belly.

 

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, and he knows that it’ll be exhausting, even with the screaming and the meltdown and the weird makeup sex behind them now to cool the situation and diffuse their emotions. “… right now though, I kinda just want to stay like this.”

 

Noctis nods, slowly. “In the morning then? We’ll get breakfast and talk about… all this, I guess.”

 

“Breakfast? In public? Noct, people are going to lose their _shit_ if they see us out together,” Prompto groans, and suddenly he realizes just how _public_ they are now. The internet’s been cheering about this Team Promptis shit for two weeks now, people absolutely will go wild when it becomes a reality.

 

Noctis shrugs. “Okay, so we’ll _order_ breakfast and stay in bed. Sound better?”

 

Prompto mulls it over for a moment, and then nods. “Much better.”

 

That’s all he wants to think about, for the moment, anyway, because he’s _tired._ Whatever they’d been half-watching is over, the credits rolling, and even though it’s not really that late, it’s been one hell of a day. Prompto knows they’ve got a long way to go. Maybe the sex had been a bad idea. But they’re still miles ahead of where they were yesterday, and that’s a thought. He can’t be too mad, at least not in the moment, when Noct’s holding him close, when Prompto can feel the way his lips curl up into a silent smile, pressed against his skin.

 

“Night, Noct,” Prompto says, quietly. “… you better not make me regret this.”

 

“I won’t,” Noctis replies, immediately. “Night, Prom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to make it clear that this is NOT resolving their problems, this relationship is gonna take tiiiiime but okay, they're both goddamn adults (sort of) and some sweet, tender make up sex is just what this fic needed, right? RIGHT. 
> 
> also, bc i keep getting questions... this fic isn't ending! i'm going to keep writing, we have a plot, we know where it's going! <3 
> 
> on tumblr @destatree / twitter @thatdest . numi is @numinoceur. the art dump is coming, eventually, too, i swear. :p


	19. Team Promptis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Noctis take a few steps forward.

When Prompto wakes up in the morning, he’s immediately confused. He’d had a dream about Noctis. He’d dreamt that Noctis had shown up, and that he’d had a huge fit, a subsequent meltdown, and some _really_ good makeup sex.

 

Then Prompto opens his eyes, and he realizes there’s an arm thrown around his stomach, and a weight on his chest. He blinks, and cranes his head, and he realizes Noct’s head is pillowed on his chest. Noct’s drooling a little, deep in sleep, and Prompto groans. Right. It wasn’t a dream. That happened.

 

And, somehow, he feels _good_ about it. Better than good. He feels _fantastic._

He’s dating a movie star. That’s pretty cool. Well. The whole ‘probably gonna get stalked by the paparazzi again’ thing sucks. So does the idea of going to another one of those dumb premieres. But… a _movie star._ How awesome is that?!

 

Giddy, Prompto reaches for his phone, but he groans when he realizes he didn’t plug it in last night, and it’s dead. Noctis had mentioned bringing his phone back, but… well, Prompto had been busy with the crying, screaming, and sexing part of the night before, as opposed to the ‘re-accepting all the gifts’ part. He’s pretty excited for that part, if he’s being honest.

 

When Prompto tries to shimmy out from under Noct’s body, his boyfriend groans and grumbles and stirs. “Mmmph,” Noctis says, ever so eloquently, as he blinks his eyes open. “… what time is it?”

 

Prompto shrugs. “Dunno. My phone’s dead and my lump of a boyfriend’s pinning me to the bed.”

 

Noctis makes another sleepy noise, but he lifts up enough to let Prompto up. “My phone’s in my pocket,” he says, “should have battery. Passcode’s ten twenty-five.”

 

Prompto’s cheeks light up at the statement, because not only is Noctis giving him his phone, he’s telling him the code, _and_ he recognizes the meaning behind it. “Noct, you’re a total romantic asshole, has anyone ever told you that?”

 

“Hear it all the time,” Noctis replies, sleepily, and then he drags a pillow back over his head.

 

Prompto doesn’t bother to get dressed, and he’s pleased by the slight limp in his step as he shuffles over to Noct’s discarded pants and fishes out his phone. There’s a bunch of missed text messages, and Prompto swipes through the notifications without reading them – he’s curious, yeah, but he’s not a snoop. It’s ten in the morning. That’s _way_ later than Prompto normally sleeps, but hell, he’d needed the rest.

 

“Hey, Mister Popular, your phone’s exploding with messages,” Prompto says lazily.

 

Noctis grumbles sleepily from under his pillow shield, “then read them. Tell me if anything’s important.”

 

Prompto blinks, and tips his head. “That you trying to be open or you just being lazy?” he laughs, though, and tugs the pillow away from Noct’s head to press a kiss into his hair.

 

“Mmph, both,” Noctis says, and he smiles sleepily, tipping his head to catch Prompto’s lips in a real kiss, before he rolls back over again, dragging the blankets up to his neck, burying his face in the pillow again.

 

“You’re hopeless, Noct,” Prompto sighs, but he’s smiling as he settles in, draping himself over Noct’s back and lazily thumbing through his phone. “Care what we eat for breakfast?”

 

“You know what I like,” Noctis mumbles. He’s obviously trying very hard to get back to sleep.

 

Prompto debates ordering Noctis some sort of vegetable omelet, solely out of spite, something of a ‘ha you aren’t forgiven yet, jerk!’ gesture, but he decides against it, because yeah, he’s being a bit of an asshole, but really, he’s not _that_ bad. He settles with picking some fancy breakfast place – feeling slightly less guilty about how stupidly expensive it is – and orders Noctis something with meat and cheese and carbs, and he picks a disgustingly sweet French toast for himself. And a nice looking latte.

 

“Food will be here in forty five,” Prompto says, after he places the order, and, in response, Noctis rolls over and curls an arm around Prompto’s waist, dragging him close. He groans and half-heartedly attempts to fight Noctis off, but eventually, Prompto settles in, laughing a little, nuzzling his face into Noct’s chest.

 

“Thought you were going back to sleep,” Prompto teases, lazily pressing a kiss right over the thump of Noct’s heart. It’s a comforting sound, and Prompto kinda-sorta hates how much better he slept last night, with Noctis in his bed again.

 

“That’s when you were getting up,” Noctis says, but he’s stifling a yawn, and his eyes are still mostly closed. “You remember that first time we had sex?”

 

Prompto absolutely remembers, because he’d been _craving_ Noctis something fierce. It’d been a lazy morning, not entirely unlike this one, and he’d buried his face between Noct’s thighs, and the thought is a little jolt of heat right through his belly. “Mmm,” he agrees, slowly, lifting his head, “hope you don’t think you’re about to get a blowjob, though.”

 

Noctis laughs, “gonna make me work for that, huh?”

 

“Yep,” Prompto agrees, but his eyes are flashing mischief, “wouldn’t mind being a pillow princess, though, if you _really_ wanna have some fun.”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes, but there’s _desire_ flashing there, and with one swift motion, he’s flipping them, pressing Prompto’s back into the mattress. Prompto’s almost surprised, but he catches himself, and he laughs a little, lifting himself up onto his elbows and glancing down at his ridiculous boyfriend. Noct’s lips are working, lazily teasing a nipple, working his way down over Prompto’s ribs, over his fluttering abdomen, and Prompto feels that familiar heat rising between his thighs.

 

“Guess it’s about time I return the favour, huh?” Noctis smiles, nuzzling into the sensitive skin of Prompto’s inner thigh, and then he’s licking a hot stripe of tongue up the underside of his half-hard cock, and Prompto _moans,_ he can’t fucking help it.

 

“Guess so,” Prompto agrees, fingers tangling in Noct’s hair, hips rocking up. It’s a nice role reversal, and in a way, it kinda marks a new beginning.

 

Giving head isn’t exactly Noct’s cup of tea. Prompto’s figured that much out, by the sheer fact that Noct isn't usually offering up blowjobs. Right now, though, that doesn’t matter, because Noct’s head buried between his thighs looks _good._ Noct doesn’t tease him, either, eyes lifting to meet Prompto’s as he takes the head of his cock into his mouth.

 

It feels _amazing,_ and Prompto doesn’t bother to hold back a moan. He’s somewhat aware that he should be careful here, but his hips jerk up, and it catches Noct by surprise.

 

Prompto, for his part, he’s _good_ at blowjobs. He knows exactly how to work his tongue, how to relax his throat and take a cock deep. Noctis, as good as he is at _everything_ else in life, he’s not very good at this. The first little rock of Prompto’s hips has Noctis backing off, sputtering and gasping as his mouth is suddenly filled.

 

“Sorry,” Prompto manages, his fingers loosening in Noct’s hair just a little, shifting so he’s stroking instead.

 

“I don’t really do this,” Noctis admits, with a laugh, and when he draws back, there’s a thin strand of saliva connecting his lips to the head of Prompto’s cock. It’s lewd, and messy, and it’s really goddamn hot. At the same time, though, it’s a rush of warmth, something that isn’t related to the arousal at all, because Noct really _is_ trying here, again and again.

 

“I’m that special then?” Prompto teases, trying to keep his voice light, as he lifts himself up a bit more, to get a better look at Noctis.

 

Noct laughs, hot breath up against his thigh, and he shifts to nuzzle into Prompto’s inner thigh, working kisses up the sensitive skin, over his balls, and then slow and wet presses of lips over his shaft. “Mmm,” he agrees, “you’re everything, Prom. So fucking perfect, I can’t even stand it.”

 

Prompto’s cheeks flush, and he _wants_ to say something. He wants to tell Noctis that he’s really not perfect at all, that he’s spent two weeks being mad, that he knows that Noct’s been trying. Any real words are lost though, because Noct’s dipping his head back down, this time with a hand heavy on Prompto’s hip, holding him still.

 

“Fuck, _Noct,”_ Prompto groans, and his fingers tighten again, as Noctis takes his cock in again. It’s so much wet heat, and it feels good. Noctis can’t quite get him all the way down, and it’s a little awkward, but it doesn’t quite matter, not when Noct’s tongue swirls thick and heavy around the head of his cock.

 

“Do that again,” Prompto hisses, when Noct starts to bob his head and work over his cock with a steady rhythm. There’s a shift, and the hand that isn’t holding his hips steady wraps around the base of his erection, stroking where Noct can’t quite take him down.

 

It’s really not a very good blow job. At one point, Prompto’s hips buck up, even with Noct’s hand holding him steady, and Noctis gasps and chokes around his cock, dripping saliva and precum down his shaft, making everything a mess. Noct draws back for a minute, but his tongue is still working circles over the head of Prompto’s erection, dipping into the leaking slit.

 

“Noct, you’re doing – ah – really good,” Prompto shudders at the swirl of tongue, and he gasps when Noctis dips lower, tongue tracing the thick ridge under the head of his cock. The reassurance seems to spur Noctis on, because he’s panting for breath, but he goes back down, takes Prompto back into his mouth, and this time, the rhythm is better, smoother, a bit less messy.

 

Really, the fact that Noctis is doing this at all is the hottest damn thing in the world. Prompto’s already close, just from _watching_ Noct work between his thighs. The combination of hand stroking him, and wet mouth working his tip, tongue running heavy and thick along the underside as Noct goes down on him, it’s got his belly tight and his thighs shaking.

 

“Noct, I’m gonna,” Prompto warns, and he has the damn decency to say it, at least, because he’s right on the edge, so close to coming. And fuck, Noctis draws his head back, lips and chin glistening. Their eyes meet, and Prompto knows he’s _so_ fucking done for, because Noctis looks so good, hair all messy, eyes bright, face smeared with saliva and precome.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, and jerks Prompto’s cock harder, faster, with a flick of his wrist that Prompto _really_ likes, tongue running heavy over the vein underneath. It’s enough that Prompto comes, suddenly, with a gasp and a shuddering moan, and an explosion of pleasure all through him that’s intense and takes him completely off guard. He bursts all over Noct’s face in messy streaks, absolutely coating his cheeks and his lips. Prompto’s whining through it, hips jerking roughly in time with Noct’s strokes, as he milks his cock dry.

 

Slowly, Prompto collapses back on the bed. There’s a shift, and Noct wipes his messy fingers across Prompto’s heaving belly as he scoots up. Prompto blinks when Noctis comes into view, and he manages a quiet little laugh, fingers lifting to swipe through some of the tacky mess coating Noct’s cheeks.

 

“Made a mess,” Prompto says, weakly.

 

“You’re really gross, Prom,” Noctis replies, “this is disgusting. Why the hell do you _like_ doing that?”

 

It’s about the power, of course. It’s about the smell, and the taste, and about being so fully enveloped in another person. Prompto doesn’t try to explain it though, he simply gives Noctis a shove, and he leans over the side of the bed to find an old shirt for him to use to wipe his face off.

 

“Just be glad you didn’t have to swallow it. Your diet is _really_ bad, Noct, it always tastes nasty…”

 

Noctis feigns a pained sound as he tries to wipe the mess of semen off his face. “Doesn’t seem to stop you from doing it,” he points out.

 

Prompto laughs, “yeah, because I love you, idiot.”

 

And damnit, Prompto’s heart thumps in his chest, because Noctis says, “love you too, _beautiful_ ,” and he dips his mostly clean face down to press a line of soft kisses into Prompto’s thigh. It makes Prompto squirm and smile and he tugs Noct back down to settle on top of him, to go in for some sticky-salty kisses that they both know taste terrible, but indulge in anyway. And okay, so maybe Prompto’s hoping Noctis will want to do that again, because he can only get better at that, right?

 

“Beautiful, though, Noct? _Really?_ That’s the worst thing you’ve ever called me,” Prompto mumbles.

 

“Shut up, jerk,” Noctis shoots back, and they both laugh.

 

\---

 

They’re both freshly showered when the doorbell rings. Prompto lends Noct another pair of lazy sweats and a v-neck t-shirt, one that shows off the delicious ridge of collarbone, and they both pad down the hallway, hand in hand, to get the door.

 

Prompto grins, a bit sheepish, when he sees Cindy and Luna sitting in the living room, watching a movie. Luna’s got her head in Cindy’s lap, and Prompto chooses not to comment, though there’s definitely a moment of _oh,_ because neither of them are dressed, either, wearing sleep shorts and loose-fitting shirts.

 

It’s probably a good thing the walls in the apartment are relatively thick.

 

“Sorry,” Prompto apologizes, as he quickly opens the door and accepts the bag of food from the delivery guy, “I should’ve asked if you guys wanted anything. Didn’t know you were here, Luna.”

 

Luna laughs softly, and sits up, twisting a lock of blonde hair around her finger. “It’s okay, Prom. We already had breakfast.”

 

Noctis is standing a little awkwardly, as Prompto drags the food over to the coffee table. It’s a tight squeeze, but he settles in next to Luna and Cindy, and leaves the end spot for Noctis.

 

“So, hun, how’s the walk of shame?” Cindy asks Noctis with a grin as he settles down next to Prompto.

 

“Fuck,” Noctis groans, and he reaches for the coffee Prompto had ordered him, taking a swig of it, even though it’s black, and too hot to really gulp down. “That obvious?”

 

Cindy rolls her eyes and Luna and Prompto both give her a _look._

 

“We’ve only been telling Prompto to talk to you for what, two weeks now?” Luna points out. Prompto gives her a _look,_ and she offers up a fierce one of her own. “What?! I told you, I was neutral good, but _clearly_ you two wanted to work things out…”

 

“Well, we’re working on it,” Noctis sighs, as Prompto hands over his carton of food, and he digs into his scrambled eggs with his fork, after scooping off the bits of avocado they had decided, apparently, to add. “I mean. I think we are. Right?”

 

“Right,” Prompto agrees, and he finds it easy enough to say it, to admit it to people. He… wants to work on it. It’s a nice thought, and his cheeks flush a little, as he grabs his own carton, and pours a little packet of syrup over the top of his ridiculous mess of cinnamon roll French toast.

 

“… that means I gotta apologize, huh?” Cindy says, after a moment’s pause. “Fine. The slap was overkill.”

 

Prompto laughs a little, he can’t help it, and Luna nudges him, giving him a _look,_ because she’s probably the one playing peacekeeper the most here.

 

“I mean, I deserved to get yelled at,” Noctis shrugs, “… can we just pretend all of this never happened? This has been angsty and depressing for _way_ too long, you guys.”

 

“It’s the bad fanfiction of our lives that never ends,” Prompto agrees, “I mean, it can only get better from here, right?”

 

“Guess we’ll find out,” Luna laughs, and when she leans across Prompto to steal a slice of Noct’s toast, Noctis pokes her with his plastic fork, trying to fend her off. It somehow eases the tension, and things get a little better.

 

After they eat, they pile the empty food cartons back in the plastic bag and stick it off to the side of the coffee table. Luna’s working again too, finally, now that Noct’s security team has cleared all the crazies out of the shop, and apparently she’s got to run to work. Noctis and Prompto pointedly look the other way while she retreats with Cindy to get ready.

 

“So, that’s a thing,” Noctis points out, when it’s just the two of them again. A thing. Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. Prompto rolls his eyes, and snuggles into Noct’s chest. Noctis has pulled his phone out of his pocket and he’s flipping through it. “… that reminds me. All your stuff’s in my car. If you want it.”

 

“ _All_ my stuff?” Prompto frowns. “… there was a lot of stuff. You didn’t keep it all?”

 

Noctis pauses, for a moment, as he swiftly types out a response to a text message, then he tips his head. “Well, yeah. I was… kinda holding out hope. It’s all still yours. The phone, and the car, and… _well,_ my keys, too, if you wanted…”

 

Prompto flushes, and dips his head down. He’d forgotten about that.

 

“I’m gonna stay here for a while, y’know? Just… until we figure things out, Noctis,” Prompto admits, but there’s a little smile playing at his lips, and he’s toying with the hem of Noct’s shirt. “… but I wouldn’t say no to spending the night every now and then.”

 

Noctis laughs, and presses a kiss into Prompto’s forehead. “Any time you want.”

 

They fall silent again, as Cindy and Luna come back out, and Luna’s all smiles as she leans in and hugs Prompto. Noctis gets a hug, too, and it’s not as awkward as Prompto worried it would be.

 

“For the record,” Luna says, as she’s heading out the door, Cindy going with her to drop her off, “Noctis, you’re a far better actor than my brother. Don’t ever tell him I said that, though.” She winks, and then they’re off.

 

“I feel like our lives have become a soap opera, Noct,” Prompto sighs, as he settles back down, head resting on Noct’s chest.

 

“Welcome to my entire life,” Noctis sighs.

 

After mindlessly watching some dumb reality series, a bit of lazy making out, and Noctis groaning and bitching about _way_ too many work emails, they eventually at least put shoes and sweaters on to head out to Noct’s car. The rain hasn’t quite died off entirely yet, and it’s drizzling lightly as they unload the stuff from Noct’s car.

 

“… I went a bit overboard, didn’t I?” Prompto groans, as he eyes the giant box full of clothes and electronics and fancy products.

 

“Maybe a little,” Noctis agrees, with a laugh, “I swear Prom, only _you_ would find out what I do for a living and still get rid of all the stuff I gave you.”

 

Prompto sticks his tongue out and rolls his eyes, shivering a little through the light rain. “Not true. _Everyone_ can’t possibly be after you for your money, right?”

 

Noctis shakes his head and this time, his laugh is a little lower, his tone with a hint of bitterness. “If not the money, then the fame. I… told you, all those rumors about who I’ve been with and what I’ve done, they’re all lies. I don’t really date. Money makes people weird. It’s no excuse but it’s why I didn’t wanna tell you.”

 

Prompto frowns, and he chews on his lip thoughtfully. “… I mean, I got a taste of what fame does to you, with all the weird stalkers I had. So I can’t _really_ be mad, even if it turned into a huge mess…”

 

“… thanks,” Noctis says, and he cranes his neck back to smile at Prompto. He’s leaning into the backseat of the car, loading up the last of Prompto’s stuff, things that fell out of the box and down onto the seat when he’d driven here. He draws back a little, shifting the box in his arms, and hoists it up. Prompto nudges the car door shut when Noctis straightens again, and they make the trek back across the wet parking lot.

 

“That Dino guy is a _nightmare,_ Noct,” Prompto adds, lazily, reaching over to grab a shirt that’s dangling off the side of the box, moments before it falls onto the wet concrete. “He tried to corner me at school, had a _whole_ lot to say about you…”

 

Noctis rolls his eyes. “You saw the interview. He really went for the jugular.”

 

“I mean,” Prompto chews his lip, “I… felt bad when I saw that interview. And then I felt bad for feeling bad, because I wanted to just be _mad_ at you…” he laughs a little, nervous, and scratches the back of his head. “That tie he wears is _ugly,_ Noct. What’s up with the tie?”

 

Noctis laughs, and their shoulders bump as he adjusts the box in his arms, getting a better grip, while they climb up the stairs. Prompto gets the door, and Noctis shuffles inside, heaving the box down onto the coffee table. “You know, I thought the exact same thing.”

 

“Totally on the same wavelength,” Prompto laughs, and their eyes meet, and really, he’s _happy._ He’s fucking happy, and he knows that it’ll be a while before they get back to where they were, but it feels like they really _will_ get there.

 

“Seriously, though,” Noctis frowns a little, sitting back down on the couch, “… I dunno. This isn’t really like Dino. He’s a little bitch, yeah, but he’s not usually _this_ aggressive. He wouldn’t normally hunt you down, just for a story…”

 

Prompto shrugs. “Guess we just created that much of a scandal.”

 

“Maybe,” Noct sighs, but he drops it, when Prompto sits back down on the couch next to him. Prompto leans forward, rifling through the box, and he’d almost forgotten, really, just how _much_ stuff Noctis had gotten him. There’s a lot of clothing, and apparently Noctis had bothered to get it all dry-cleaned, and someone (most likely Ignis) had folded it. Prompto does his best to keep it neat and folded, but some of the clothes fall, as the pile grows.

 

“The tux is hanging up at my place,” Noctis offers, as he watches, “Ignis said it’s treason to fold it up and stick it back in the box…”

 

Prompto laughs a little. That seems like something Ignis would say. “… fuck, Noct, I never wanna see that tux again. Too many bad memories.”

 

“We’ll get you another one,” Noctis replies, “assuming you _ever_ wanna go to a fancy red carpet even with me ever again…”

 

Prompto shakes his head, and he manages to laugh that one off, though really, _that_ is a thought he isn’t quite ready to face yet. He’s still getting over the public humiliating of having a panic attack in front of a lot of famous, important people. How the hell will he ever manage to do that again.

 

“No pressure, though, seriously,” Noctis adds, and Prompto nods, relieved. “We’ll take it slow.”

 

Prompto thinks he can handle that. For now, at least. He leans back in, rifling through more of the possessions in the box, and he drags out a bag with all the fancy makeup, the shampoos and the soaps, all the cosmetics he’s okay, maybe sorely missed.

 

The phone is next, and Prompto hates to admit that he _really_ did regret giving Noctis back his phone.

 

“… you’re really okay with me having all this stuff? I know you said it’s okay, but—“ Prompto tries to ask, and Noctis waves him off.

 

“Prom. Do we need to have this talk? I just got _two_ big contracts, and my dad and Ignis manage most of my money… I’m not some reckless spender. It’s fine, okay?” Noctis frowns, and he’s tipping his head to the side, watching Prompto.

 

Prompto nods, setting the phone aside. He reaches back down into the box, and he hears the jingle of the keys as his fingers close around them.

 

Noct’s shifting, a little nervously, “… my apartment key is on there, too. And… Ignis changed the locks after… everything that happened, but I’ll give you the passcode too. I know you said you don’t wanna do _that_ bit yet, but I want my life to be open to you. I…” Noctis pauses, and Prompto gets the distinct impression that he’s nervous. It’s making his stomach churn with a strange emotion, because Prompto wants to _comfort_ Noct, to reassure him that this is a thing they’re doing, that he’s here. Fuck, this being mad thing is really not working out in his favour at all.

 

It’s important, though, to take it slow.

 

“I want to put it all out there, I guess,” Noctis says, finally, with an embarrassed laugh, and his cheeks are flushed. “Give you all the cards, I guess, and just wait for your move.”

 

Prompto shakes his head. “I go on a rage and refuse to talk to you for two weeks, and you’re the one trusting in _me?_ Damnit, Noct, you must _really_ like me.”

 

He laughs a little, and Noctis nods, and bumps their shoulders together. Prompto feels like he should maybe protest about the car, again, but… well, knowing exactly _what_ Noctis does, now, that changes things a little. It doesn’t change the important stuff, but these details? It’s hard to feel quite so bad, when he’s got a doting boyfriend who’s definitely making more in a year than Prompto can ever expect to in his entire life.

 

Prompto’s fingers scrape the bottom of the box, and he realizes it’s empty.

 

“Oh,” Noctis says, though, and he’s flushing again, but with a smile on his face, as he fumbles for his wallet. They’d finally thrown his pants in the wash, and he’d switched pockets. “Reminds me. I’ve got something for you…”

 

Prompto tips his head, and frowns. They’ve already gone through the box of stuff, and as he wracks his mind to think of anything that’s missing, he can’t quite figure it out. “You better not be buying me gifts, Noctis Caelum,” he opts to tease, because he’s a little uncertain still.

 

Noctis grins, and he tugs a little plastic bag out of his wallet. Prompto’s eyes widen with sudden recognition as he gets a glimpse of what’s inside.

 

“Naw,” Noctis reassures, “Just returning something to its rightful owner.”

 

His fingers only shake momentarily, before Noctis steadies himself. He dumps the content of the little bag on his palm, and he tips his head, tongue darting out to wet his lips in concentration, as he leans over Prompto. “Cinderella left something behind at the ball,” Noctis teases.

 

It’s so fucking cheesy, Prompto _almost_ wants to punch Noctis. Almost. His heart though, suddenly, is beating out of his fucking chest. So instead, Prompto leans in, tipping his head to the side. He’s not wearing any of his earrings today, and Noct’s got the fucking missing one, that favourite one he’d managed to lose at the red-carpet event.

 

“How…?” Prompto asks, and he half expects Noctis to stab him with the end point as he pokes the earring through the hole in his ear. Noct’s fingers are steady though, pressing it in, then deftly slipping the back on.

 

“You’ve got a whole lot of fairy godmothers, you know,” Noct simply replies, drawing back a little, and he smiles, admiring the effect. “Would you look at that? A perfect fit.”

 

Prompto can’t help it. He bursts into giggles, but his heart is swelling out of his chest, and he feels like tackling Noctis, like clinging to him and never letting go, because somehow, it was one of the most goddamn romantic things Noctis has done for him, to date.

 

“You are such a sappy asshole, Noctis,” Prompto says, but he’s going in for a kiss, and Noct’s arm curls around his neck, and they stay like this for a while, surrounded by all the fancy gifts, not a care in the world, except for each other.

 

Prompto’s still smiling when he draws back, finally, fingers lifting to fiddle with the earring, the one he’d been certain was gone forever. Just like how he’d been certain Noctis was gone from his life forever. It’s a funny little parallel.

 

“I was really worried I’d stab you putting it back on,” Noctis admits, and it mirrors Prompto’s thoughts so accurately, he laughs again.

 

“Guess Prince Charming found his Cinderella,” Prompto replies, with a flush of heat across his cheeks. He feels awkward, but his heart is fluttering in his chest, and it’s another point driving home the fact that Noctis is absolutely _trying_ here, and fuck, he should be trying too. Still, Prompto doesn’t quite know what to say, so he ducks his head down, a shy smile playing at his lips, falling into silence for a bit, before he speaks again. “… okay, Noct, I could sit on this couch forever with you, but I really wanna have my phone back. And, y’know, I gotta unpack. Come help?”

 

Noct sigh, with an overexaggerated flourish, but he’s standing up from the couch and offering Prompto a hand. “I’m totally going to hire you a maid to come clean, so we don’t have to.”

 

“Hey! You will not!” Prompto teases, and he has to admit, Noct’s probably got a good arguing point, because his dumb angry, depressed phase has left his room a bit of a whirlwind. There’s also the matter that now that he _knows_ Noctis has money, he’s going to have to balance all of this somehow.

 

Carrying all the stuff back into Prompto’s room takes a few trips, with the two of them, just because once it’s all out of the box, as neatly packed things always go, it seems to have multiplied, and it seems like a miracle that all the stuff fit in the first place. Noct’s idea of “helping” is to sit on the bed and keep Prompto company while he hangs clothes back up in his closet, and really, Prompto has a feeling that’s for the best.

 

“So,” Noctis says, slowly, while Prompto works. “… we probably need to _really_ talk. We keep putting it off.”

 

Prompto sighs. Yeah, they do need to talk. He isn’t quite sure of his feelings here. Yesterday? Before all of this? He was really goddamn mad. And then even after, during the (really good) makeup sex, he’d still been bitter and angry. Prompto doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting, here. It’s easier, maybe, to make Noct into some sort of caricature of a villain, to pretend that they _both_ didn’t get hurt by this.

 

“I’m sorry,” Prompo says, slowly, his fingers fumbling with the sweater he’s holding. “… I needed that two weeks, Noct, but I reacted really badly. I should’ve talked to you, but I was just hurt and being selfish…”

 

“Hey,” Noct’s response is instant, “it’s okay, Prom. I went crazy for two weeks, don’t get me wrong, just wishing you’d talk, but it was a fucked up situation. Everyone’s, right, I should’ve made sure you knew what you were getting into—“

 

“You tried to,” Prompto cuts Noctis off, firmly. Talking about this stuff is hard, and Prompto’s convinced that he simply needs to get it all out. “We were _both_ really dumb, Noctis. I’m just the oblivious, lovesick fool who didn’t see a million things that were right in front of me. It’s kinda unbelievable, huh? That all that happened and I had no idea,” he laughs a little, because that’s just how stupid his life is. Sometimes, Prompto doesn’t even know how all of this is _real,_ because it’s just so insane.

 

Noctis is watching him intently, and Prompto’s cheeks flush, because the gaze is intense. It has him turning away, fumbling more with the clothes, and leaning into his closet to hang up the fancy sweater. He reaches for another article of clothing, a shirt, and Prompto _smiles,_ because he realizes just how much it smells like Noctis. He draws the fabric up to his nose, and he feels dumb, but it’s inspirational.

 

“… I got moved around a lot. Through homes and stuff. When I was a kid,” Prompto says, quietly, and Noct goes still, simply _listening,_ from where he’s sitting. Prompto appreciates that. “It wasn’t ever _really_ bad, like nobody hit me, but… after a while, you start feeling like nobody can _really_ care. I’m mostly better now, Noct, I swear, but sometimes I… just don’t deal well with arguing.”

 

Noctis doesn’t reply at first, and Prompto’s cheeks flush even brighter. He moves to turn away again, but Noct’s suddenly standing, crossing the room, and his arms curl around Prompto from behind, drawing him back against the solid warmth of his chest. Prompto’s eyes widen a little, and his fingers trembling, and then he’s turning himself around. The shirt falls to the floor, and Prompto’s arms curl around Noct’s waist, and he’s pressing his face in, all warm and secure against his boyfriend’s chest.

 

“We’ll work on it,” Noct says, quietly, “… I was hurt, too, Prom, but I don’t blame you. Everyone was against me, even though I _tried,_ but your opinion’s the only one I care about, right now.”

 

Prompto nods, and he holds on tighter, and he swears he’s not going to cry, but he thinks, just maybe, this time it’s Noctis holding back a few tears, his chest heaving under his cheek. “… you don’t need to forgive me yet, either, Noct. I'm gonna work on fixing this, too, I just... I'm still kinda mad, and I know it's dumb. Just... give me time?”

 

Prompto, damnit, he swore he wasn’t going to cry, but his eyes are brimming bright with tears when he finally draws back. Noct’s eyes are wet around the corners, too, and _fuck,_ Prompto thinks that maybe they’ve really made a mess of the whole situation. It probably would have been easier, facing it together from the beginning, huh?

 

“Thanks for taking a chance on me, Noct,” Prompto says, going in for a kiss, and when he draws back, he’s determined, that they’re _not_ going to be stuck doing this on their own anymore. They’ll face it together.

 

Noctis shakes his head and smiles, and blinks away a few of the tears clinging to the corner of his eyes. “How about we stop apologizing and being depressed about this shit, and we go back to the original plan of me spoiling you on a lot of really ridiculous dates?”

 

Prompto rolls his eyes, but he nods, and he gives Noctis a long, appraising look, before he draws away. This time, Noctis doesn’t sit down again, and he bends down to grab the shirt that Prompto dropped, handing it over.

 

“You said you got a couple of new roles,” Prompto says, suddenly. “I’m… kinda really interested in all this. I went months not knowing what you did, I swear, for a while I was scared you were a drug dealer or something.”

 

Noctis outright laughs, and Prompto has to admit, it’s kinda silly, looking back on it. “It’s really not that interesting,” Noct assures. “It sounds cooler than it is. A lot of it is negotiating contracts and royalties and Ignis does all that… I’ve been acting since I was a kid, so most of it comes pretty easy, just a matter of getting into the role.”

 

“It’s really cool,” Prompto points out, “dude, Noct. I’m not starting shit, but you are _so_ out of my league. I bet you made more yesterday than I made in an entire year at the shop.” Prompto hands the shirt up, and he sighs. He’ll need to fully reorganize his closet, too, eventually. He’s been kind of living in a depressed haze, after all. Now that Noctis is back, though, it suddenly feels much more like home again.

 

Noctis shakes his head, and Prompto watches out of the corner of his eye. “Money and fame aren’t everything, Prom, you _saw_ how bad it gets. You’re the first person I’ve met in _years_ who just liked me for… me. It was shitty and wrong, but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want things to change.”

 

That’s a thought. Prompto blinks, and he glances around the room. All the fancy stuff is back. He’d hastily swapped the sim card out on his phone, and the new one is charging (blissfully, past the ten percent marker). He’s gonna be able to dress all fancy again, and the stuff is… _nice._ But it’s not everything. It’s just an added bonus, an extra layer of security, on top of what he hopes will eventually go back to being a rock solid relationship.

 

“The stuff is nice,” Prompto admits, slowly, because he’s not about to lie. “I kinda live paycheck to paycheck, Noct, and I’m not gonna lie, the thought that I’ll be able to eat whatever the hell I want is a really _nice_ one. Other than that, though? My cool movie star boyfriend is totally just a giant dork. _That’s_ what I like.”

 

There’s a moment of silence, and then Noctis is smiling again, “You know you’re like, the only person who thinks that, right?”

 

Prompto shrugs, “I gotta have _something_ to offer to this relationship,” and the words are self-deprecating, but his tone is light, joking. “Tell me about work stuff, Noct, I wanna know it _all..”_

 

“I’ll take you to set sometime, if you want,” Noctis says, with a grin. “The catering is usually pretty good.”

 

“At least once we figure out this ‘going public’ thing…” Prompto points out. He’s not sure how _that_ is going to go, after all.

 

Their eyes meet, and then Noct’s grinning, and gesturing him over again. “C’mere.”

 

Prompto, curious, shuffles over. Noct’s taking out his phone, and he tugs Prompto close, and lifts his phone out to take a selfie. It’s stupid, but there’s a pang right to Prompto’s heart about how _natural_ this feels, and he’s happy, he really is, to be back with Noctis like this. He tips his head, nudges their cheeks together, and grins ear to ear, watching their image on the phone’s screen as Noctis snaps a few selfies.

 

“Pick one,” Noctis says, handing the phone over. Prompto doesn’t really know what Noct’s getting at, here, but he flicks through the photos. They both look a like tired and worn down, eyes a bit red around the edges, their hair a mess. Noct’s very obviously wearing one of Prompto’s thread-bare, well worn shirts. But they’re smiling, and they look… well, like a _couple._

 

Prompto settles on one where his eyes are actually open. Noct’s arm is thrown over his shoulder, and Prompto’s leaning in, with a hand on Noct’s chest, and their cheeks bumping, and they’re wearing similar smiles, though Prompto’s is more lopsided. Noct’s smile isn’t any of that usual charming, charismatic one though, it’s dorky and _happy._

 

“This one,” Prompto says, “why, Noct?”

 

“I’m gonna piss Ignis off,” Noctis says, with a laugh, and he opens Twitter. “… if that’s okay?”

 

Prompto realizes, suddenly, where Noctis is going with this. “Oh, Noct, _fuck,_ aren’t we supposed to stay off social media when shit like this is going on? That’s the best advice I got during those two weeks.”

 

“Might as well just get it over with, right?” Noctis points out, “and I bet Iggy’s relieved we’re back together. I might as well give him some work to do. We’ll face it together.”

 

Prompto sighs, but he’s laughing, too, bumping his forehead into Noct’s shoulder. “Ignis is going to _hate_ you… do it, Noctis, might as well just let the whole world know we’re together.”

 

Prompto makes a mental note to absolutely ignore Twitter for the next while, because Noctis goes for it, posting the stupid selfie to his online account with several million followers. It’s got the cheesiest caption in the whole world: ‘Found my missing Cinderella. #TeamPromptis is back!’

 

“Noct, that’s _bad,”_ Prompto groans, but he drags Noctis in for a kiss, long and passionate, and when they draw back, looking into each other’s eyes, Prompto feels his heart skip a few beats. “You’re making it _really_ hard to stay mad at you, y’know.”

 

“That’s the plan,” Noctis agrees. It’s a good plan.

 

“Yeah, and it’s working, jerk,” Prompto says, with a laugh, and they settle in together for the day, after Noctis pointedly turns his phone off, happy to let Ignis deal with this new PR mess. It’s a pretty good first day, the next chapter in this ridiculous story they’re creating together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Prompto is getting there, okay? It's been pointed out to me that he's being kinda shitty and slow to forgive Noctis... and that is (mostly) intentional. He's trying, okay? Boy has trust issues. Character flaw. :p  
> 2\. There wasn't gonna be smut in this chapter (it was fade to black) and then I was told to add the smut so I did.  
> 3\. Numi and I screamed over this chapter, like LITERALLY screamed, so hopefully ya'll do too! #cinderella, #teampromptis.  
> 4\. I guess the first arc of this is resolved now? I could probably end the fic here but what's the fun in that, let's keep the chaos going~ see yall next week!


	20. Back to Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto goes back to being blissfully oblivious. Whether he realizes that or not is questionable.

The downside, of course, to Noctis ignoring his phone is that Ignis knows Prompto’s number anyway.

 

The bright side, at least, is that Prompto wakes up early.

 

Noct’s curled at his side, content to be the little spoon for once. Prompto’s awake, but he hasn’t necessarily found the energy to drag his ass out of bed yet. His stomach’s starting to nag him to go get breakfast, but Prompto’s slow and lazy to respond.

 

His phone starts buzzing, of course, and that’s inspiration to roll over and reach for it. It’s barely six in the morning, but he _groans_ when he sees that it’s Ignis texting him. The message is simple: _are you awake? Can we talk?_

Prompto rolls out of bed, and Noctis grumbles and rolls over from the loss of warmth, but doesn’t wake. Running a hand through his hair, he half-stumbles across the room – there’s clothing strewn everywhere, they’d managed to squeeze in another fuck before bed – and into the bathroom.

 

 _‘just woke up,’_ Prompto quickly types out his response, _‘u wanna get breakfast? Noct’s asleep’_

 

Ignis responds, instantly, with the address to a little hipster café nearby, and Prompto knows the place. ‘ _be there in 20.’_

Prompto washes up as quickly as he can, half-assing his morning routine. He half-debates on whether he wants to make Noctis get up. Ignis is kinda terrifying, all on his own, and Prompto… well, he and Ignis aren’t exactly on the best of terms, thanks to all the drama they’d been through. Looking back, of course, Prompto’s aware that things got out of control, that yeah, Ignis fucked up, but Prompto hadn’t exactly been cooperative, either. He gets dressed, Noctis grumbling and burying his face in a pillow when Prompto turns the light on, and debates a moment longer, before deciding that yeah, he’ll just let his lazy-ass boyfriend sleep.

 

The café is still mostly empty, because not very many people are early risers. Prompto’s one by nature, because he runs so often, and it’s best to get it over with before it gets hot. Ignis, he feels, is probably just neurotic. Prompto’s glad it’s early though, because he’s still anxious parking the Maserati, and he’s _definitely_ not looking forward to facing the world again. Hell, even just entering the little café, the hostess gives him a long, lingering stare before gesturing to the booth that Ignis is already seated at.

 

Prompto sits down, and Ignis gives him a polite smile. The man looks like he hasn’t slept. Shit.

 

“So,” Prompto says, slowly, “how pissed off are you?”

 

Ignis sighs. “That’s a complicated question.” He’s sipping his coffee at an alarming rate, and Prompto gets the feeling that this isn’t his first one. “Heavens tell, _why_ did you think letting twitter know you’re back together before letting _me_ know was a good idea?”

 

Prompto sighs. “Noct’s idea,” he admits, with a shake of his head. “… you know, one thing I’ve realized about knowing Noctis? He kinda makes me do crazy things. Makes me feel… I dunno. Extremes. Is that what being in love is like?”

 

Ignis rolls his eyes, and takes another sip of his coffee, before placing his mug down. “No. That’s simply _Noct.”_

 

Prompto can’t help it though, he giggles his response, and Ignis _smiles,_ and at least the tension is momentarily broken. Honestly, that’s simply the truth of the matter. Noctis Caelum drives people insane. He’s got an aura to him, some stupid, cliché reality that makes him absolutely irresistible, no matter how much he might fuck up, or how much he hates the attention. He’s somehow the center of the world while outright trying to push everyone away.

 

“It would have been helpful if he’d answered my calls,” Ignis says, lightly, picking up his menu. Prompto realizes, with a start, that yeah, they’re here for _food,_ and his stomach is rumbling. He also feels a jolt of guilt, because he can’t really _afford_ to eat out, but whatever, he’ll worry later. It’s not like his situation is so dire anymore. Noctis has kinda spoiled him.

 

“Sorry,” Prompto mumbles, as he scans the menu, settling on some ridiculous, sweet, chocolatey pancake mess, as usual. “… maybe I’m kind of a bad influence, too. We just wanted a day to catch up. It’s been a long two weeks, y’know?”

 

“You’re telling me,” Ignis agrees. He goes for the coffee again. His eyes are lidded, and there’s dark shadows under them. Prompto feels a new, hot rush of guilt.

 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, again, this time, a little more urgently. “Not about yesterday, but I mean… about getting pissed off. At you. I mean… I think you tried to tell me, and Aranea told me you didn’t mean any hard, but—”

 

Ignis laughs softly, and waves it off. “Aranea’s opinion of me is slightly biased, I will admit.”

 

“She’s scary,” Prompto blurts out, but he’s smiling fondly. He likes her. Obviously, Aranea had saved his ass during the disaster that was the red carpet, but she’d checked in on him, and she’d been willing to talk, whenever he’d needed it, over the past two weeks. Prompto… well, he’s not about to forget that. “She’s kind though. I get the feeling she likes to hide it, but… yeah. She’s been telling me I owe you an apology.”

 

“I owe you one as well, then,” Ignis responds. “I should have taken more initiative, making sure Noctis was doing the right thing.”

 

That’s probably true, too. Prompto sighs. He’s uncomfortable with apologies, and with admitting that he was wrong, and he’s _terrible_ about forgiving people. He doesn’t necessarily know if he’s entirely forgiving Ignis here yet, either, as much as he wants to. So, Prompto merely nods.

 

“So, how fucked are we, Iggy?” he decides to get right to the point.

 

“Very.”

 

They order their food, and it arrives quickly, since the place is still rather empty. Their server is a friendly young girl, but she tips her head and says, _‘should I know you?’_ to Prompto and he’s quick to jump in and say nope, just has a familiar, likeable face, and Ignis rolls his eyes. Okay, so maybe this is bad.

 

Ignis rambles on throughout the meal, something about damage control, about splitting resources to keep both of them safe, and suggesting that Prompto stay at Noct’s apartment for a while, since it’s more secured. Prompto dismisses that outright, and he feels a jolt of guilt, because maybe he’s being difficult, but Ignis doesn’t push it.

 

“Moving slow with Noctis is wise, you know,” Ignis says. “He’s… never been in a real relationship before. Nothing like _this.”_

 

Prompto chews thoughtfully on a piece of chocolate pancake. It’s loaded up with sickly sweet syrup, and it’s delicious. “Why does he have such a bad reputation?”

 

Ignis shrugs. “Nature of the beast. He usually invites female friends to premieres and events. Noct is… _well,_ he’s never really cared much for anyone, before he met you. There’s been a few relationships, but he’s normally quite _reserved._ So, any time he was seen with a new woman, people jumped on it. You’ve gotten a taste of how it is.”

 

Prompto nods, and mulls that over. He’s gathered that Noctis doesn’t really date. Noct’s admitted as much, because of the whole fame thing. Now that it’s all smacking him in the face though, Prompto’s realizing, very fast, that _shit,_ this is real. It’s real, and it’s serious. And hell, he’s feeling a little overwhelmed, but in a very good way.

 

“This is the first time he’s ever gone public with someone,” Ignis adds. He’s on his fourth cup of coffee now, and he’s still something of a mess. “We’ll handle it, of course, but Noct’s fangirls are _insane._ I fear they may see you as a threat, now that you two are back together. I wish he’d _told_ me…”

 

Prompto sighs. He shoves another bite of food in his face. “So, Noct pays you overtime, right?”

 

Ignis barks out a laugh. “I’m salary,” he tells Prompto.

 

“Oh, shit dude, I’m sorry,” Prompto replies, and then he flushes, realizing what he’d said. Ignis simply laughs though, and the mood is an okay one. All things considered, Prompto decides, Ignis isn’t quite so bad. He didn’t hit it off with him as easily as he had with Gladio, and Ignis is _definitely_ more terrifying and intimidating than Noctis, but Prompto gets the feeling that somehow, he just wants to see Noctis be happy. And that’s something they have in common, once Prompto sorts past the mess of feelings still heavy in the pit of his stomach.

 

\---

 

Prompto’s grateful for Ignis’s warning, in the end, because it’s exactly what he expected it to be.

 

It’s not as bad, somehow, as the first time he’d fallen directly into the spotlight. Most likely, it’s because Prompto’s got Noctis on his side. He’s got Gladio and Ignis, too, and they’re pretty damn good at what they do.

 

“Noncommittal statements, Prompto,” Ignis is coaching him, the following morning, before class. Prompto’s not sure how his living room ended up being a sort of conference room, but at least Ignis and Gladio had showed up with breakfast, and Noctis had dragged his sorry ass out of bed, too. There’s a bit of sadness, there, because Prompto knows Ignis is here for Noctis, and it’ll be a while before they see each other again, but that’s probably a good thing, all things considered. Prompto hadn’t been kidding when he said he needed time and a bit of space to process things.

 

“Think Prince Charmless threw out the ‘noncommittal’ rule when he announced to the world that the famous couple is back together,” Gladio points out, with a laugh.

 

Noctis grumbles and glares, and Ignis sighs. “Point taken. Still. Prompto, don’t say _anything_ that can be used against you. We’ll escort you to and from classes, until things calm down…”

 

“How long is this gonna take?” Prompto sighs. “Noct, maybe we should’ve stayed secret, I just want to go to school…”

 

“ _No,”_ Noctis interrupts. He’s chewing on a bagel, and there’s crumbs spilling on the couch, but Prompto doesn’t really care. “I told you, Prom. I’m done with being secret.”

 

Prompto sighs. He’s crazy about Noctis, but learning to balance all this other stuff that comes with it, it’s exhausting. “Okay,” he agrees, “I smile and keep my mouth shut.”

 

Still, all eyes are on Prompto again when he shows up for class. Gladio’s sticking with him on the way, thank fucking god, and Prompto appreciates the companionship. He damn well appreciates that Noct’s bodyguard knows that Prompto needs the support more than Noctis himself does, because this is something Noct’s grown up with. He can handle it.

 

“You got this, kid,” Gladio mumbles, a hand on Prompto’s shoulder, as he leaves him, once he’s at school. He’d offered to go with Prompto to class, but, well, he’s gotta get this shit under control on his own at some point, right? It seems like that’s a very big reality, now: Prompto’s gotta learn to deal, or he’s gotta dump Noctis. He can’t have a celebrity boyfriend if he can’t handle the heat, right?

 

One of the girls who’d harassed him in the past makes a beeline for Prompto, as soon as he’s in the classroom.

 

“I knew it,” she says, proudly, as Prompto slides into his seat. “You told us all you were _done,_ but you were just playing hard to get, huh?” she’s eyeing the sweater he’s wearing, too, and her eyes narrow. “Gucci. Your _boyfriend_ buy you that?”

 

Prompto shrugs. His palms are sweaty, and his heart is pounding in his chest again. He’s stupidly nervous, and he shouldn’t be, because it’s _jealousy,_ right? Everyone’s jealous of him. He’s telling himself that over and over again, and the anxiety subsides, just a little.

 

“Honest question for you,” Prompto says in response, as he digs through his backpack to pull out his notebook and a mechanical pen. He’s nervous, yeah, fiddling with an earring – his favourite one, the one Noct was kind enough to return – but it’s not _as_ bad as it was. “Why does it matter?”

 

The girl blinks. “Huh?”

 

“Seriously,” Prompto feels a little more confident. “Yeah, we’re together. But why does it matter? If you wanna live vicariously through me, go ahead, but I’m not talking.”

 

“You’re no fun,” the girl pouts, turning on her heels, but she gives up, marching back to her other friend.

 

Okay, Prompto thinks, he can do this. And yeah, it’s just one girl, it’s not a mass of paparazzi or that fucking awful Dino guy, but it’s a start, right? He’ll survive.

 

\---

 

Life dating Noctis the celebrity, it turns out, isn’t really that much different than life dating Noctis before Prompto knew. Okay, so some things change. For one, Prompto suddenly becomes hyper-aware of the _attention_ they get. They go out for some goddamn burgers one day, and he sees someone with a camera lurking in the distance. Later, the pictures are trending on Twitter, and Prompto stares in horror. There’s a reason, of course, why Ignis tells him very adamantly to just stay off social media, but Prompto’s a bit of a masochist. He groans and blushes and laments about that one trip they’d taken to Galdin Quay, the rumours of celebrities, everyone trying to snap photos of Noctis… it’d been nice. Ignorance really is bliss, and Prompto wishes, in a way, that he could get that innocence back.

 

When it’s just the two of them, though? Hell, Noctis is the same old Noctis. If anything, somehow, Noct’s become even more relaxed. He starts spending nights at Prompto’s place again, whenever he can, and even though Prompto knows now that Noct’s schedule is insanely busy, trying to balance two movie contracts, he can tell just how much effort Noctis is putting in.

 

It works out, because Prompto’s insanely busy, too. He picks up more shifts at the tea shop, and the semester is almost over. He’s got some photography projects left to complete – ones that Noctis _most reluctantly_ agreed to model for, at that – and life’s a whirlwind of activity.

 

Noct’s at his apartment when Prompto comes home from work one day. He’d spent the night, and Prompto knows it’s a rare day off, so he hadn’t bothered to wake up Noctis on his way out. He’s sprawled out on the couch, watching television when Prompto comes inside. He’s taken to driving the Maserati more, too, because even though it’s terrifying driving a sports car that’s worth more than his entire life, the knowledge that Noct’s insurance is probably top of the line helps.

 

Yeah. Prompto’s totally spoiled. He’s living the life.

 

Still, he’s nervous when he comes inside, his work apron still tied around his waist. It’d been a busy morning, and Prompto’s exhausted, about ready to crawl into bed. Noctis looks over his shoulder though, and _smiles,_ and hell, Prompto makes it as far as the couch, flopping down next to his boyfriend and snuggling into his chest.

 

“Hey, lazyface,” Prompto smiles. Noct’s wearing one of his old, worn t-shirts and a pair of boxers, and he hasn’t bothered to get dressed. He isn’t showered, either, and his stubble is scratchy when Prompto lifts a hand and strokes it over Noct’s cheek.

 

“Mm, hey babe,” Noctis mumbles, an arm curling protectively around Prompto’s waist. It’s warm and affectionate, and it has Prompto grinning ear-to-ear. “How’s work?”

 

Prompto yawns, his face burying into Noct’s chest again, breathing in the mingled scent of the two of them. “Busy. Noct, I’m glad we went public, but we’re _dumb._ Is this attention ever gonna die down?”

 

It’s been a couple of weeks since they’d had the brilliant idea to announce their reconciliation to the world. And, well, poor Ignis has nearly had a heart attack thanks to their combined stupidity. Noctis had offered him a pay raise and a vacation (“when it all dies down”) and Prompto’s pretty sure it’s more stress-leave than actual vacation. There’d been a frenzy of attention, raving fans and people showing up at the tea shop again, and Dino Ghiranze himself has begged them for a joint interview. More than once. It’d been tempting, and Prompto had gone on a _vicious_ rant about how justified it’d be to show up in hideous, matching turquoise ties. However, Ignis had outright _refused_ the idea, pointing out how horrendous the first interviews had gone.

 

(Noctis just wants an excuse to throw donuts again.)

 

He kinda had a point. And, well, Ignis is the expert.

 

So the security is bumped up, and they were both swiftly banned from making _any_ social media posts for a while (Ignis threatening to take away both of their cell phones, like a scolding mother) and it’s slowly dying down. Slowly being the key word.

 

On the bright side, Prompto’s become practically best friends with Gladio. He’s a secret nerd and he shares Prompto’s love for bad romance novels. He also knows how to win Prompto over with more of that delicious chocolate. Plus, he’s a giant wall of muscle, and intimidates pretty much anyone who thinks to approach. Prompto even wants to think that maybe Gladio’s terrifying demeanor is wearing off on him a little. It’s a good friendship.

 

In all. Not So bad.

 

“Fangirls hassling you again?” Noctis asks lazily, fingers stroking circles along Prompto’s spine, in a way that has him melting.

 

“I hate it when they come in and order stuff and just _stare_ the whole time,” Prompto admits, with a quiet sigh. “Totally caught one of them snapping me making their dumb drink, too.” It’s a tricky problem, of course, because there’s a fine line between harassment and just being a public spectacle. It’s died down a little bit, yeah, but two weeks have gone by and Prompto’s quickly realizing that people are hoping that if they hang out around him, they’ll get a glance at Noctis…

 

“Shitty,” Noctis agrees. “You’ll learn to ignore them, Prom.”

 

Prompto doesn’t want to have to simply _ignore_ it, but Noctis is right, of course. This is his life now, and even after Noctis gives up acting, he’ll still have his legacy following him around. “Do people still harass your dad?”

 

“Sometimes,” Noctis admits. His fingers still, as they work over Prompto’s back. “A lot of it’s cuz I’m famous though. It’s not as bad for him as it used to be.”

 

“So there’s hope,” Prompto teases, and shakes his head. “Noct, I’m already dreaming of your retirement.”

 

“Don’t think that’s for a long time,” Noctis laughs, but Prompto’s going in for a kiss, and they fall silent for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s company. Prompto curls his arms around Noct’s neck, and when they part, he settles his head on his boyfriend’s chest, eyes drifting back over to the television. For someone who’s famous, Noctis seems to really have a guilty pleasure for trashy reality television shows. He rolls his eyes, and there’s a moment of gratitude that at least _they_ don’t have a trashy TV show. Apparently Ignis has _already_ been approached about that, too, and thank fucking god, he’s not cruel enough to subject Prompto to that.

 

“Speaking of my dad,” Noctis says, after a moment. “He’s going out of town next week, and he wants us to come by for dinner. I mentioned that your uncle wants to meet him, and he said you should invite him too. Uh. If you want to.”

 

Prompto blinks, and he lifts his head up. “Seriously, Noct? Your dad’s kinda _way_ more famous than you. I mean. No offense! He was really nice, when we met. My uncle’s gonna _freak_ though.”

 

“Thanks,” Noct’s voice is sarcastic and he playfully swats at Prompto’s shoulder, but his eyes are all bright, dancing with emotion, and it’s really damn captivating. These moments are really the ones Prompto’s living for, with this mess of a relationship. It’s the ones where his stomach starts doing flips, where it doesn’t matter that Noct’s some big-shot celebrity, and that his life’s way more complicated now than it was before. Prompto’s _happy._

“Seriously though. No pressure,” Noctis adds, quickly, when Prompto doesn’t respond. “His place is… well, it’s a bit extreme. He’s got this beach house that’s way bigger than any house should be.”

 

“Says the guy who lent me his _spare_ Maserati,” Prompto shoots back, grinning a ridiculous, crooked grin at Noctis. And, for once, it seems luck was on Prompto’s side through all of this. He might be nervous as all hell, under normal circumstances, meeting his famous boyfriend’s famous actor dad for the first time. However, the first meeting is already under Prompto’s belt. More than that, Noct’s dad had been pleased to meet him. He seems to _like_ him, even. So really, after all they’ve been through, it doesn’t seem so bad.

 

Noctis laughs, even though he’s totally shaking his head and giving Prompto another playful shove. “Yeah, but my condo’s totally normal-sized and comfortable.”

 

“Your condo’s on the top floor of a giant, fancy building, and your bedroom is _massive,”_ Prompto points out, a little incredulous. “Noctis, normal people live…” well, maybe not like him, necessarily, because the place he shares with Cindy (and now, in a sense, with Noctis and Luna on occasion) isn’t necessarily the nicest of apartments. But it’s still a far cry from the sleek place Noctis has. “… well. Normal people aren’t quite as extravagant.”

 

Noct doesn’t reply for a moment. He settles back against the couch, and reaches for a blanket, and tugs it around them. “Yeah, well. I’m not exactly a normal person, Prom.”

 

“No, you’re not,” Prompto agrees, and then before Noctis can say anything, he quickly adds, “and I’m glad you’re this way, Noctis Caelum. I’ll call Uncle Cor and ask him if he wants to meet your dad. It… would be nice, I guess. For our families to meet.”

 

Noctis nods, and he looks pleased at Prompto snuggling back in again. Prompto’s pleased, too, tucking his head under Noct’s chin and curling an arm around him. “Our families meeting. Shit, Prom, this is getting serious, huh?” Noct’s voice is teasing, but Prompto knows better. He’s not kidding at all, not really.

 

Prompto sighs. He wanted to take things slow. He’s still working to fully forgive Noctis, and he’s damn well aware that it’s only going to take time. But… introducing his uncle to Noctis and his dad? That’s serious. It’s a step forward. It means that they’re working toward _something,_ whatever that something might be.

 

“You’re wearing me down,” he admits, with a laugh. Noct gives him a squeeze. “Still not moving in, though. So don’t ask.”

 

Noctis laughs, “you wound me, Prom.”

 

\---

 

Prompto’s a little weirded out. Noctis has a work thing, and he’d invited Prompto to tag along and visit the set, but Prompto’s got a class, and he _really_ needs to have an evening at home to get caught up on all the projects he’s trying to finish. So, he’s finishing up his class for the day. Gladio’s still seeing him to campus, but he isn’t personally escorting him to and from classes anymore, because things have died down a bit, and Prompto’s appreciative for that. He enjoys Gladio’s company, but it’s _weird,_ having a bodyguard tailing you everywhere. He’s not sure how Noctis lives with it. As it remains, just the bit of company is bad enough.

 

The Maserati is parked near the back of the lot, and it’s so far away, Prompto thinks he would’ve probably been better off walking to campus in the first place. It’s early afternoon, and it’s not a particularly dark or dreary day. It’s cloudy, but it’s warm. He’s got his phone to his ear, and he’s calling his uncle as he walks, because he hadn’t gotten the chance to the night before. Not that he was occupied with really good sex or anything, but… well, okay, so maybe he and Noctis were occupied with some really good sex.

 

His uncle picks up on the third ring.

 

“Hey, Uncle Cor,” Prompto says, brightly, as he exits the building his class is in, strolling lazily across the campus quad.

 

“Hey kiddo,” his uncle sounds pleased to see him. In the background, Prompto can hear some movie blaring, and there’s a bit of muffled sound, and then Cor must’ve paused the movie, because the background noise stills. “Long time no talk.”

 

Prompto flushes a little, and laughs. The campus is still relatively busy, this time of day, and there’s a bunch of students eating lunch and studying at tables outside. “Sorry. I’ve been bad, huh? It’s just busy. End of semester bullshit.”

 

“Mhmmm,” his uncle replies, with a laugh, and Prompto can practically see the sarcastic smile flashing before his eyes. It makes him grin. “And how’s paradise with Caelum?”

 

Prompto laughs too. His uncle’s words are a little gruff, a bit rough around the edges, but Prompto’s realized that for some reason, he has a soft spot for Noctis. That’s impressive on its own, because his uncle has a protective streak, and he’s also a pretty good judge of character. Prompto’s figured out that Noctis is _good,_ just… well, a bit of a mess on his own, and that’s why they fit together so well, maybe.

 

“Things with Noct are uh… _good._ I think,” Prompto admits. “They’re moving kinda fast, but I’m happy.”

 

“Fast isn’t necessarily bad,” his uncle responds, “as long as you’re careful. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Don’t let yourself get blinded.”

 

“I’m trying not to,” Prompto points out, “but y’know, it’s kinda hard, when I’m finally getting used to driving his sports car around.” Okay, it sounds _really_ bad when he puts it that way, and he groans, “not what I meant, but _you know…”_

 

“I know,” his uncle agrees, “and you’re in love.”

 

Prompto opens his mouth to insist that his uncle doesn’t need to point _that_ out, but hell, he absolutely is, isn’t he? He’s already admitted it. Multiple times. That’s why he’s giving Noctis this new chance, after all. He sighs, instead, exiting the quad and following a little paved path down a grassy slope to the parking lot the car’s parked in.

 

“Okay, so maybe,” Prompto agrees, and hell, even admitting it aloud has him smiling a little, like a lovesick fool. “Whatever. So, the reason I called. Noct’s dad is having some barbeque or something, and he wants our families to meet, so… you wanna come?”

 

There’s a moment of stunned silence, and Prompto worries that his uncle hung up the phone. “Uncle Cor?”

 

“I’m here,” his uncle replies quickly, “just. Wait a sec, son. You’re inviting me to Regis Caelum’s place? Did I hear you right?”

 

Prompto laughs a little, and his cheeks flush warm. His uncle’s been calling him that more and more lately, and Prompto likes it. _Son_. He likes how the word sounds. Yeah, he wishes it could’ve happened a lot sooner, but there’s no denying that they’ve grown closer from all this. Hell, it’s thanks to Noctis’s influence that Prompto’s reached out again. That thought makes him smile. No matter what happens with him and Noct, he’s got this out of it.

 

“Uh, yeah. That’s exactly what I said.”

 

“No shit,” his uncle swears, “Prompto, _yeah,_ I want to go.”

 

Prompto laughs, and he can definitely picture the grin on his uncle’s face. Cor’s obviously excited, because he’s rambling on about how Prompto’s managed to fulfill one of his greatest fantasies without even trying. Prompto’s smiling, and nodding. And then, out of the corner of his eye, as he crosses the parking lot, something catches his attention.

 

There’s a road that winds along the edge of the parking lot, and from here, he can just barely make it out. There’s a car driving by, a sleek black one. The windows are tinted, but the driver’s side window is rolled down, and Prompto _swears,_ just for a moment, that Dino Ghiranze of all people is _staring_ at him, as the car slowly rolls by. He even swears there’s a flash of that hideous tie. Goddamnit, he hates that tie.

 

Then, the car is out of sight, and Prompto flushes brightly. It must’ve been his imagination, right? There’d be no reason for Dino to be tailing him. Still, Prompto’s grateful when he sees the Maserati, cuz Gladio’s got a Jeep parking next to the car, and he’s lounging back, his feet kicked up over the dashboard of the car, a trashy romance novel, battered and worn, with a broken spine, open in front of his eyes. Prompto's torn on whether he wants Gladio to keep trailing him like this, for the sake of 'just in case', but in this moment, he's definitely relieved for the company.

 

“So, I’ll text you the details?” Prompto asks his uncle, as Gladio lifts an arm and waves, and Prompto waves back.

 

“Yeah,” his uncle agrees, “shit, Prom, I’ll clear my schedule. _Regis Caelum,_ what are the damn odds. You know I was joking saying I wanted to meet him, right?”

 

“I know,” Prompto laughs, “but this is life now, I guess. Love you, Uncle Cor.”

 

“Love you too, kid.”

 

Prompto hangs up the phone. He briefly considers mentioning what he saw to Gladio, but the more he thinks about it, the more insane it is. There’s no way Dino’s following him. He’s just being overly paranoid, because of all the shit they’ve been through. Yeah. That’s all it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm I wonder where this is going :') believe it or not there is gonna be more plot. 
> 
> yes, everyone, next chapter is the fateful Regis+Cor meeting. I am very excited. 
> 
> thanks for reading!


	21. Dream Dads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited meeting between Regis and Cor! ... Noctis and Prompto suffer through it.

Okay, so Noctis wasn’t kidding when he said that his dad’s place is _extreme._ Prompto should know better by now, shouldn’t he?!

 

The driveway is gated, and Noctis had texted him the passcode earlier. The stupid Maserati is too low to the ground for Prompto to key in the code properly – talk about _first world problems –_ and he has to twist in the seat and pull himself halfway out the damn window to hit the little touchpad. There’s a momentary bit of dumb anxiety (what if Noctis gave him the wrong code?!) but the gate slides open. He almost smacks his head sliding back into his seat and the car accelerates up the winding drive with ease.

 

“Nice place,” his uncle comments. Cor had been a little shell-shocked to see the fancy sports car, too, but Prompto had simply sighed and pointed out that this is just what Noctis is _like._ It’s a bit disorienting for the common folk, and Prompto hates to admit that he’s adjusted to it, that he’s actually getting used to this life of luxury. Maybe he should’ve just let his uncle drive, but Prompto’s gotten fond of driving the car, too. Damnit

 

“Noct said it’s… big,” Prompto admits. He hadn’t quite been expecting _this_ though. He doesn’t know why. For some reason, the fact that they’re invited to an ocean-side mansion on the outskirts of town, one that’s gotta cost _millions_ hasn’t computed in his brain yet. Go figure.

 

The driveway is massive, looping around, and Prompto pulls off to the side and parks in an empty spot. He recognizes one of Noct’s other cars, and the old, fancy collector car that Noctis had stolen on that fateful day Prompto had met his dad when Regis had showed up at the apartment to reclaim it.

 

The landscaping is absolutely pristine, and Prompto wouldn’t expect any less, as he and his uncle clamber out of the car. The view is already _stunning,_ too, the ocean off in the distance sparkling in the afternoon sun. It’s a perfect day, a faint breeze coming up from the coast, tousling Prompto’s hair slightly, and it’s warm and balmy.

 

Prompto whips out his phone to text Noctis that he’s here, but apparently Noct’s been waiting, because the large, arched front door is opening and Noctis is strolling out. His smile falters, just a _little,_ when he sees Prompto’s uncle, but he recovers quickly enough that Prompto’s actually somewhat impressed.

 

After all, his Uncle Cor can be absolutely terrifying when he wants to be, and Prompto’s very much gotten the feeling that their last meeting had been mildly threatening.

 

“So, you found the place,” Noctis says, with a grin, as he swoops in to press a quick kiss to Prompto’s cheek. Prompto’s tempted to pull Noctis in for a proper one, but he’s feeling oddly _shy_ about this. He’s never introduced his uncle to a partner, after all, let alone a _boyfriend._

“Wasn’t so hard to find,” Prompto agrees, “but dude, Noct, you weren’t _kidding,_ this place is… wow.”

 

Noctis laughs, a little self-conscious, and he takes a step back, extending a hand to Prompto’s uncle. “Good to see you again, sir. On… y’know, better terms.”

 

Cor eyes Noctis warily, and for a moment, Prompto is just the slightest bit nervous. Fuck, what if this goes horribly? Of course, then his uncle breaks into a smile, and he nods curtly, and extends a hand in return. Prompto breathes a sigh of relief.

 

“You look better than you did last time,” Cor agrees, and Prompto’s can hear just the faintest traces of intimidation in his uncle’s voice. Okay, so maybe he’s still slightly salty, but that’s reasonable, given everything that’s happened.

 

Noctis laughs it off, at least. “Way better,” he agrees, heading back to the front door and holding it open for them. “C’mon, I’ll show you around, my dad’s already out by the pool…”

 

Prompto does his best not to stare in awe as they make their way through the house. Well, it’s more of a mansion than a house. Noct’s rambling off as he leads them through the place, pointing out the kitchen, the dining room, the wine cellar, the home gym… Prompto’s head is spinning. He’s pretty sure the _kitchen_ alone is the size of his entire apartment.

 

“You rich folk don’t half ass anything, do you?” Prompto’s uncle points out, with a laugh, when Noctis vaguely gestures at the fuckin’ _sauna room_ (“there’s a nicer one outside, by the pool”) as they make their way down a long hallway and out to the back patio.

 

Noctis shrugs, “ask Prom. My place isn’t _this_ elaborate.”

 

“He has a penthouse condo,” Prompto says, and he opens his mouth to say more, and then promptly shuts it, because the view, as they step outside, is fucking _amazing._ The patio wraps around the side of the house and down around a large pool that’s set near the edge of a perfectly manicured lawn. Beyond the edge of the cliff, there’s beach down below, and then all the way to the horizon is nothing but sparkling ocean. Yeah. Okay. Prompto can _kind_ of understand the appeal.

 

Noct’s dad is lounging by the pool, and he clambers up out of his lounge chair when he sees them walking over. He’s got an expensive looking pair of sunglasses over his eyes, but he’s dressed… well, otherwise, rather casually. Prompto feels at ease, immediately, with the way he lifts a hand and waves and smiles brightly.

 

“Prompto!”

 

Noct’s father sounds absolutely _thrilled,_ as he strides over and tugs Prompto into a tight embrace. Prompto hadn’t expected _that,_ and he’s a bit flustered, his cheeks flushing as he hugs back, though his tips his head to the side and offers Noctis a _look,_ a bit of a silent plea for help.

 

“Dad, c’mon, you’re gonna scare Prompto off,” Noctis grumbles, but his father waves him off, as he steps back, a hand on Prompto’s shoulder.

 

“Nonsense. He’s my future son-in-law. Prompto, my idiot son let you get away once, he better not mess up again,” Noct’s father says sagely. Prompto manages a weak laugh, and then he gestures vaguely at his uncle.

 

Prompto’s seen his uncle in a lot of situations. He’s seen him stoic and stern, and he’s seen him exhausted and worn down. He’s seen him put on the intimidating act, and, of course, he’s seen him the way nobody else does, all smiles and gentle advice and _loving._ He has _never_ seen his uncle flustered, though, and right now? That’s really the only way to describe it.

 

“Uh,” Prompto says, quickly, stepping in. His uncle, an esteemed war vet, a man who’s been to hell and back, has lived through every single situation possible, is _nervous._ Maybe it’s not apparent to Noctis or his father. He’s all tight-lipped and straight-faced, but Prompto knows his uncle. “Oh. This is my uncle, Cor, he uh, I dunno how much Noct told you, but he pretty much raised me…”

 

Regis Caelum, bless his fucking soul, he doesn’t hesitate, even for a moment. He’s smiling brightly, and extending a hand. There’s a moment, and then Prompto’s uncle is smiling, and nodding, and the two men shake hands firmly. It’s a good handshake, Prompto knows _that_ much, and he can feel the tension easing away.

 

“So _you’re_ responsible for this excellent young man,” Noct’s father says, amicably. “You did an excellent job. I _adore_ Prompto. He is far too good for my Noctis.”

 

“ _Dad,_ I’m right here,” Noctis tries to butt in, but his father waves him off.

 

“Noctis, go fetch us a couple of beer…”

 

Prompto flushes, and turns bright red, and _oh fucking shit,_ did he forget to mention that particular, massive, _very_ important fact to Noctis?! He’s mortified, and he sees the way his uncle tenses up, _immediately,_ and oh no—

 

“Er, Mr. Caelum—” Prompto starts to say, in a horrible voice.

 

“It’s fine, Prom,” his uncle interrupts, quickly, when Noct’s dad starts to give him a _confused_ look. “Prompto’s concerned because I don’t drink alcohol.”

 

“Oh,” Noct’s father replies, quickly, “ _oh,_ no worries! Noctis mentioned it, so I stocked my fridge up with the non-alcoholic variety. _Apologies –_ what do you prefer? Mr. Leonis? Cor?”

 

“Cor is fine,” Prompto’s uncle says, swiftly, and he’s grinning in a way that Prompto hasn’t seen since, well, since his high school graduation. “That’s awfully thoughtful of you, _ah….”_

 

“Regis,” Noct’s dad says, “call me Regis. Now, let’s sit by the pool and trash talk my idiot son, shall we? Seems he’s frustrated you _nearly_ as much as he frustrates me on a daily level…”

 

Prompto thinks, maybe, that he should point out that Noctis is still very much standing right there, but Noctis simply waves him off and darts into the house to get drinks. Prompto heaves a sigh of relief, and he smiles as he watches his uncle and Noct’s dad converse as they pull up chairs by the pool.

 

They’re gonna get along just fine.

 

Noctis returns and hands over the cans, dripping with condensation in the bright afternoon sun. Prompto’s sitting by the edge of the pool, shoes kicked off, his legs dangling into the water, across from where his uncle and Noct’s dad are seated. He’d wanted to be close by – he’s oddly protective of his uncle – just in case, but it seems like the two are getting along very well without him.

 

Noctis settles down next to him, and an arm curls around his waist. Prompto smiles, and he leans in, cheek resting on Noct’s shoulder. “They seem to like each other,” Noctis points out.

 

Prompto nods. Across the water, on the other side of the pool, the two are cracking open their drinks and Prompto’s pretty sure his uncle’s already deep into the old war stories. He’s fond of that thought, because his uncle doesn’t really _talk_ about that stuff, not with most people.

 

“Your dad’s a good guy,” Prompto says, splashing his feet in the water a little.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, “he is. He’s a way better person than I am, honestly.”

 

“Maybe,” Prompto teases, but he’s laughing, “you’ll get there, though, Noct. He’s got years on you.”

 

“True,” Noctis laughs as well, and he nudges into Prompto’s side. He’s got his feet dangling down into the water, too. It’s a nice day, and the water feels great, and Prompto’s definitely not opposed to simply lounging out here. He draws away, just long enough to tug his shirt off over his head, and yeah, Prompto’s totally gonna burn up, but whatever. Noct tugs his shirt off, too, and Prompto leans back in, draping an arm over Noct’s shoulder, fingers playing over the carbuncle tattoo he enjoys tracing over so much.

 

“Your uncle’s a good guy, too,” Noctis points out, in a low voice. “He… could’ve kicked my ass, when I talked to him. He gave me some really solid advice, though.”

 

Prompto grins. “He likes you. He’s always got my back, but he totally wanted us to make up. He keeps telling me about how he can tell you make me happy…” his cheeks flush, just a bit, with the confession, but Noctis squeezes at his hip, an encouragement. “… y’know, Noct. I never would’ve gotten close with him again if it wasn’t for you. That’s… a big deal. You’re a good person.”

 

Noctis shrugs, “I just like seeing you smile.” He pauses, and groans, and shakes his head. “That was cheesy, huh?”

 

“The cheesiest,” Prompto agrees, laughing. He kicks his feet in the water and sighs when some of it splashes up in his face, cool and refreshing and nice. “Can we swim? It’s hot out here.”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees, and before Prompto has a chance to say anything else, Noct grabs him by the waist and slides off the edge of the pool, tugging them both down. It’s a burst of _cold,_ and it shocks Prompto, taking him by surprise, and he’s sputtering and _yelling_ as Noctis grins and dunks them down.

 

“Oh, you’re going _down,_ Noct!” Prompto’s yelling, and suddenly they’re kicking and splashing and attacking each other in the pool, like a couple of rowdy kids having fun while their dads shoot the shit and drink beer.

 

And really, that’s exactly what they are.

 

\---

 

Honestly, it all goes better than Prompto would’ve even dreamed. He and Noctis manage to wear each other out and then – big surprise – Noctis passes out with his head on Prompto’s lap as they flop out on the patio with a towel spread underneath them. Prompto had worried, of course, that he’d be the odd one out, that it would be _weird,_ but it’s not. It’s nice, and it feels like, well, like he _belongs_ somewhere.

 

The sun’s starting to dip lower in the sky, and Regis is getting the grill going, still chatting up a storm with Prompto’s uncle.

 

“Honestly, I don’t get to grill for people too often,” Noct’s dad is saying, as Prompto lounges back and stares up at the clouds drifting across the sky. This is paradise. For all his concerns, and as ridiculously over-the-top this beach _mansion_ is (because it absolutely is a mansion), this day is going so much better than Prompto had expected. He’s got the solid weight of Noct’s head in his lap, and a hand is lazily stroking through his boyfriend’s hair.

 

“Hope it’s not too much trouble that we’re here,” Prompto’s uncle’s replies. Prompto’s not really intending to listen in, of course, but the breeze is carrying the sound, and it’s calm out, otherwise peaceful and quiet.

 

“Absolutely not,” Regis replies. “You, sir, are the best company I’ve had in _ages._ I avoid the old crowd these days, most of my old acting buddies got _weird_ now that we’re cranky old men. Mortality staring them down and they’re suddenly insecure assholes…” he laughs, and Prompto smells smoke, and hears the sizzling of meat as they toss steaks onto the grill.

 

His uncle laughs appreciatively, “hell, I’ve known for a long time about mortality. The war humbles you, Reg. Ya know, that’s why you were my favourite actor… nobody really got it _right,_ except you. I’d expected to find out you were a war vet, but you’re just that damn good.”

 

 _Reg._ Prompto can’t quite hold back the grin, because his uncle’s already on nickname terms with Noct’s dad. That’s good, right?

 

“I did a lot of research,” Noct’s father replies. “Went and spoke with a lot of veterans… I know I’m just an actor, and a _retired_ one, but I’ve always prided myself on my work…”

 

Noctis stirs in his lap, and Prompto looks down, smiling to himself as he brushes some stray bangs out of Noct’s eyes.

 

“Is my dad ranting about his old acting days again?” Noctis mumbles, blearily blinking his eyes open. “Fuck, I hope he doesn’t scare your uncle away.”

 

“Naw,” Prompto replies, with a laugh, chancing a glance at his uncle and Noct’s dad. Somehow, Regis has procured an extra pair of ridiculous sunglasses, ones that match his, and now Cor’s wearing them too. The two look a ridiculous pair, tending to the grill, but it makes him smile again, for different reasons now. “Noct, I think they’re gonna get along perfectly fine.”

 

Noctis sits up, and goes in for a kiss, and Prompto finds it hard to care that it’s a little weird to be in this exact situation. He doesn’t know he’ll ever _truly_ get over the fact that this is commonplace in his life now. And hell, the fact that it’s all coming together so perfectly? It’s damn unbelievable.

 

Noctis draws back, with a grin, and stretches his arms over his head, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet. He offers a hand to Prompto. “C’mon. Let’s go get the table set up for dinner before dad yells at me for being a lazy asshole again.”

 

Right on cue, Regis yells, “Noctis, my lazy asshole son, stop sleeping and go set up the dinner table for our guests!”

 

Prompto can’t help it, he bursts into laughter, and lets Noctis pull him to his feet. “It’s okay, Regis,” he says – and it’s still _weird,_ calling Noct’s dad that instead of Mr. Caelum, or Sir or whatever – “I’ll help Noct set up.”

 

Prompto grins, and Noct’s father gives him an approving look, nods, and turns back to his uncle.

 

“You’ve raised a perfect young man,” he says, “I absolutely cannot wait to have him as a son-in-law. I keep telling Noctis he better not fuck this up…”

 

Prompto’s uncle laughs, “Prom got here all on his own,  I really didn’t do nearly enough for him…”

 

Prompto flushes, and now _he’s_ the one tugging at Noct’s hand, pulling him away, because he does _not_ need to hear a conversation about his upbringing. He really, absolutely doesn’t. “We’re gonna regret them becoming friends, aren’t we?”

 

“Totally,” Noctis agrees, and when they get inside, he takes the lead, because the place really is massive. Prompto’s glad because he’s got a horrible sense of direction, and he’s half-convinced he’d get lost, trying to map the place out on his own. It’s really not that complicated, mostly just a long, straight hallway, but there’s lots of doors.

 

The kitchen is, with a middle island, all stainless-steel appliances and marble countertops. At the end of the kitchen, it opens up into a wide dining room with windows on all sides and a perfect view of the ocean.

 

“This place really is amazing, Noct,” Prompto murmurs, wandering out to lean against the table and stare out at the ocean view. “… I can’t even believe this is my life. I know I keep saying that, but… it’s just so much _more_ than I ever thought.”

 

Noctis laughs quietly. He’s rummaging through the fridge behind Prompto, and Prompto hears the clinking of cans as Noct sets them down on the counter. “When I was little, before dad retired, we mostly lived at a condo in town. This was a vacation home, more than anything. Dad’s still got the condo, now, but he only stays there when he’s got business in town… he mostly lives here, now.”

 

Prompto tears his eyes away from the ocean view and turns around again, re-entering the kitchen. Noct’s pulled a couple of bowls out of the fridge – salad and some sort of casserole thing – and he’s eyeing them a little skeptically, before he turns to rummage through the cabinets.

 

“I can’t imagine growing up here,” Prompto says, with a shake of his head. “Having a _pool…_ a giant house to mess around in…”

 

Noctis finds a bag of chips, and tosses it onto the countertop. “It was lonely, honestly. No point in all these rooms if there’s nobody in them. Ignis’s uncle is friends with my dad, so he was around a lot. Same with Gladio – his dad did an acting gig with my dad, years ago – but… other than them, just me.” Noct shakes his head, and he laughs, and Prompto’s learned enough about Noctis by now to know that he’s slightly self-conscious of it.

 

“Well, now you’ve got me,” Prompto points out, brightly. “Pretty sure you can invite me here any time and I’m not gonna say no. That pool is _awesome.”_

 

Noctis laughs, grabbing some paper plates and forks out of another cupboard, and he hands them over to Prompto, along with one of the big bowls, the bag of chips balancing precariously on the lid. “Just wait till you see the other pool. There’s an indoor one, too, I didn’t show you it yet…”

 

“Your dad has _two_ pools?” Prompto groans, and shakes his head. “Noctis, this is insane. How do you people even _live_ like this?”

 

“Hey,” Noctis teases, with a roll of his eyes, as he balances the sodas and the other bowl in his other hand, and they slowly make their way out of the kitchen again, Noct taking the lead. “You say ‘you people’ like we’re different. Suck it up, Prom, you’re one of _us_ now.”

 

Prompto opens his mouth to protest, to point out that no, he’s nothing like Noctis and his dad, but… well. He falls silent. Maybe he _is_ becoming more like them. He’d been at ease driving the Maserati, after all. Hell, even the paparazzi is phasing him slightly less, and though Prompto doesn’t think he’ll ever fully adjust to _that_ part of this, it’s definitely not the absolute hell it’d been those weeks earlier, after the red carpet situation.

 

And, worse than that, there’s a warm fuzzy feeling settling nicely into the pit of his stomach at the thought of being part of this. It’s not just the extravagance, either. Yeah, this is nice. This giant house is nice, and the pool, and the ocean, and the whole big picture. But… hell, being here, spending the afternoon lounging with his uncle and Noct and his dad?

 

It’d felt an awful lot like being part of a _family._

And hell, Prompto’s spent his whole goddamn life wanting a family.

 

He’s smiling, as they head back out onto the main patio. The sun’s dropped behind a cloud, and the wind is picking up a little, and Prompto shivers. He’s still shirtless, and his shorts are just a bit damp from their little adventure splashing around in the pool. They dump all the food onto the table, and Prompto takes the initiative, setting things up as best as he can, though the wind is blowing plates around, so he has to put the soda cans on top to keep them from catching in the wind and blowing away.

 

First world problems: the wind is blowing away the paper plates for their oceanside dinner.

 

“Food ready yet, dad?” Noctis calls over.

 

“Just about,” his father yells back. He’s handed reign of the grill over to Prompto’s uncle. That’s apparently a huge deal and a sign of trust or something, because Noct’s nudging him in the ribs and pointing it out, with a whisper.

 

“Noct, I’m cold,” Prompto whines, in response, shivering again. Noctis laughs, and grabs a clean towel off one of the lounge chairs by the pool, wrapping it over his shoulders.

 

“Better?”

 

“Good enough,” Prompto decides, and he steals a kiss.

 

They settle down for dinner and it goes smoothly enough. Prompto learns, very quickly, that Noct’s dad brights out a lighthearted side in his uncle. It’s… well, it’s refreshing, and heartwarming. His uncle hasn’t had an easy time. It’s been better, since they made up, since Cor stopped drinking, and Prompto moved on from the past, forgave him for all the shit that had happened. But seeing him like this? Well, it’s something else.

 

“Salad, Noct?” Regis says, silkily, with a smile, as they’re seated and passing food around.

 

Noctis scowls. “ _Dad._ You know I don’t do salad.”

 

“Shame,” Cor replies, gruffly, but Prompto sees the way his lip twitches upward, “can’t trust anyone who won’t eat greens. Too bad I’d like to see my son with someone trustworthy.”

 

Noctis _glares_ up a storm at his father as he accepts the salad and dutifully places a tiny scoop of it on his plate. Prompto giggles, nearly choking on the can of soda he’s sipping on. Regis simply looks vaguely amused, leaning back in his chair.

 

“Noct, you really _do_ love me,” Prompto teases, taking the salad bowl from Noctis and dumping some on his plate. It’s covered in enough dressing that really, it tastes pretty damn good, but he knows Noctis and his feelings about _lettuce._ They aren’t good feelings.

 

“Young love,” Regis replies, a little dreamily, “I remember those days.” He gives Prompto’s uncle a look, and starts to cut into his steak. “Before you know it, we’ll be planning their wedding.”

 

“ _Dad,”_ Noctis groans. He forces himself to shove a forkful of the salad in his mouth, and shudders visibly as he chews it. “Tone down the marriage jokes. We’ve been together like, four months.”

 

“I proposed to your mother after two months,” Regis points out, with a smile. Something passes over him, and just for a moment, he looks old, sad and worn down. “Aulea would’ve _loved_ you, Prompto.”

 

Noctis pokes viciously at his salad. “ _Dad._ Can we not kill the mood with talk about mom?”

 

Prompto ducks down in his seat a little. He doesn’t really want to think about the past, about his own parents, and his time in foster care, and all that. It’ll suck, really, if things finally get awkward, after they’ve been having such a good time. His head’s spinning, too, at the thought of _marriage,_ and holy shit, even if Noct’s dad is joking, he’s a little overwhelmed, all wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the damn headlights.

 

“It’s fine,” Prompto’s uncle says, abruptly. “Never married, myself. There was a girl, before the war, but…” he shrugs, “it changes you. Then I had Prompto to worry about, and…” he trails off.

 

“And you did a great job,” Prompto chimes in, a little awkwardly, but he’s smiling, cheeks flushing as he nudges into Noctis. “And now we’re _here._ And I think you’re the first person to ever intimidate Noctis into eating a vegetable, Uncle Cor.”

 

Noct’s father laughs, “it’s true. I’ve been trying for _years._ Even threatened his trust fund and that didn’t work…”

 

“Helps that he’s dating my son, I suppose,” Cor shrugs, finally cutting into his steak, and taking a bite. “Damn good job with the steak, Reg.”

 

Prompto’s cheeks flush as he watches, and he doesn’t say anything. That word again. _Son._ He likes it. He’s stupid happy, and yeah, Noct fucked up in the past but… they’re well on their way to fixing things.

 

His uncle catches his eye, and offers him a little half-smile between bites of food, and Prompto smiles back. Under the table, Noctis nudges their legs together, and forces another bite of the salad. Prompto can’t help it, and he’s laughing again, kicking back at Noct’s shin, all smiles as he digs into his own food.

 

The breeze coming up off the ocean gets stronger as the sun sets, and after dinner they end up inside, in the cozy front living room (because there’s apparently “more than one”, according to Noctis) with coffee, and a giant mug of hot chocolate for Noctis, who has apparently suffered through enough today with the salad.

 

Regis and Cor are animatedly discussing some war movie they’re both fond of – one that _isn’t_ starring Noct’s dad – and arguing good-naturedly about something or another. Prompto’s curled up on the couch, his legs thrown over Noct’s lap, occasionally stealing sips of Noct’s hot chocolate while he nurses his own drink. Noctis is half paying attention, apparently in a texting war with Ignis, his eyes narrowed and his thumbs moving a mile a minute.

 

Prompto has to admit, he’s kinda sleepy as he leans back against the squishy arm of the leather couch, despite the caffeine working through him. It’s been a long day, and he’d been a little stressed about all this, if he’s being honest with himself. He’d clearly been worried for nothing, and everyone’s getting along, but… well.

 

Okay, so he’s got some paranoid tendencies, still.

 

“Dad,” Noctis says lazily, “Ignis wants you to call him.”

 

“Work stuff can wait until _after_ our guests leave, Noctis,” Regis replies, swiftly.

 

Prompto blinks. Work stuff? He’s suddenly interested again, and the caffeine seems to instantly take effect, as he lifts himself up a little. “Work stuff?” he asks, more in Noct’s direction than his dad’s.

 

“It’s nothing,” Noctis sighs. Prompto frowns, and chews his lip, and Noct seems to think better about his response. “I mean. It’s just _boring._ Contract stuff, none of the fun things.”

 

“It’s all new and fun to me,” Prompto points out.

 

Noct’s father laughs, “trust me, in a few years, you’re going to _hate_ this talk, Prompto.”

 

Prompto flushes, at the notion that they’ll be doing this in a few years, still. He’s warming up to the idea, and he gets the feeling that the casual teasing is a compliment. His uncle laughs, too. “Careful, Reg. You’ll chase Prom away.”

 

“It’s okay,” Prompto flushes, though he offers his uncle an appreciative smile. He makes a mental note to pester Noctis later. “He’s tried pretty hard to chase me away already. Hasn’t managed to yet.”

 

Noctis groans, but Prompto grins and punches him good-naturedly in the shoulder. His uncle’s watching them, Prompto realizes, and he flushes a little, but he’s _happy._ And hell, Uncle Cor’s shaking his head and smiling in a way Prompto hasn’t seen in a long time.

 

“Prom, you and Noctis can leave whenever you’d like,” Prompto’s uncle says. Noct’s dad is rummaging through an old movie collection – one that Cor had definitely stared at, awe-struck, most of the movies have signed covers from various actors Regis knows – and they’re probably going to settle down to watch some silly old war movies they apparently both have an affinity for. “Regis offered to give me a ride home.”

 

“No, it’s fine, Uncle Cor, I don’t wanna abandon you—” Prompto starts to say.

 

Noct’s father interrupts, “it’s fine. I need to go to the office in the morning, I’ll stay the night in town.”

 

Prompto tips his head. “You sure?”

 

“Since when is it _your_ job to protect me, son?” Cor teases, with a laugh, and Prompto’s cheeks flush a little. Again, with the ‘son.’ One of these days, he’ll answer appropriately. Cor’s pretty much been a dad to him, after all, and in the past months, it’s been especially important. It’s a relationship that Prompto’s grown to cherish, after all.

 

“Since I kinda threw myself face-first into the spotlight,” Prompto replies, shaking his head.

 

Noct’s father idly looks over his shoulder, as he selects a film from the shelf. “Oh, that reminds me. Cor, you golf?”

 

“Oh, here we _go,”_ Noctis groans, “this is how we get stuck going golfing. I _hate_ this shit.”

 

“You aren’t invited,” Regis replies swiftly, and Prompto giggles into his hand because Noctis looks both relieved and _irritated_ by the fact that they’re being pointedly left out.

 

Prompto’s uncle also seems amused. He laughs. “Haven’t golfed in years, Reg. Can’t say I’m any good at it.”

 

“Oh, I’m terrible,” Regis muses, serenely, “not nearly terrible as Noctis though. Maybe we _should_ invite him, then we’ll look fantastic in comparison. Once, Noctis missed the ball entirely and smacked my colleague Clarus in the head instead. He’s got a _horrible_ swing….”

 

Prompto can’t help the laughter now, and his uncle’s shaking his head and laughing as well.

 

“Dad,” Noctis groans, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, voice fierce, “I was _twelve_ when that happened. You gonna hold it against me forever?!”

 

“Of course I am. I’m your father,” Regis replies.

 

Later, after Prompto and Noctis suffer through half of an old war movie – Noctis grumbling in his ear that he really _doesn’t_ see the appeal – Prompto’s starting to yawn, and Noct looks about done with the day. Their dads (or, well, dad-figures) are totally engrossed in the movie, and it makes Prompto laugh. He should have known that his uncle would get along perfectly with Noct’s dad. There’s a couple of cans of soda and a big bowl of popcorn between them, and they’re talking in hushed voices about their favourite parts and ‘oh this line of dialogue is good’ and ‘they got that spot on, you know; war sucks’ and a bunch of other commentary that Prompto only hears bits and pieces of.

 

Regis pauses the movie when Noctis finally eases them up off the couch, and Prompto follows. “Heading out?”

 

Noctis nods, “early day tomorrow. Talk to Ignis before he annoys the shit out of me, I’m doing that movie as a favor for _you,_ don’t forget…”

 

“Right,” his father says mildly. “Be careful on the way to work tomorrow, will you? Apparently that sleazy journalist has been stalking around the studio again. You don’t need _another_ public humiliation.” Prompto opens his mouth to say, _waoh, wait, hold on a second,_ because he’s suddenly having a flashback to the other day on campus. Before he can though, before he gets any more than a meaningful look in Noct’s direction, Regis is continuing. “Oh, that reminds me. You and Prompto are housesitting for me next week.”

 

Prompto blinks. Wait. What? Instantly, the other stuff isn’t as important.

 

“Uh,” he starts to say, giving Noctis a _look,_ but Noct looks just as confused as he does.

 

“First I’m hearing about it,” Noctis replies. “Dad, can you stop springing stuff on me?!”

 

“Your son complains a lot, Reg,” Cor notes, idly, “Prom, I hope you have better manners than that.”

 

Prompto flushes and looks helplessly at Noctis, who simply shrugs. “We’ll talk, dad.”

 

Regis smiles. He gives Noctis a one-armed hug, and Prompto gets a longer, tighter embrace. Prompto’s uncle throws an arm around him too, and shakes Noct’s hand, and the death-stare doesn’t seem to be _quite_ as severe.

 

“So, we survived that,” Prompto says to Noctis as they let themselves out.

 

“Somehow,” Noctis groans. “Prom, your uncle’s as big a troll as my dad is. This is gonna be a hot mess.”

 

“If we ever get married, Noct, the wedding is going to be _horrible,”_ Prompto agrees.

 

“Yeah, at least they _like_ you,” Noctis sighs, leaning against the side of the Maserati as he walks Prompto to his car. Prompto feels a little bit like a teenager, hanging outside of his boyfriend’s dad’s house, idly chatting and procrastinating saying goodbye. “Hey. You wanna come to the studio with me tomorrow?”

 

Prompto hadn’t been expecting _that,_ either. He frowns, and chews his lip for a moment. He has a couple of photography assignments that he _really_ should be finishing up. One’s a paper – Prompto sucks at writing papers – and the other’s an assignment that Noctis reluctantly modelled for. That one’s easier, just some touch-ups that he needs to finish, and he really _should_ be finishing them. But, on the other hand… a chance to visit Noctis at work.

 

“Yeah,” Prompto says, a little breathless, taken aback by a sudden rush of excitement. “You wanna come back to my place for the night?”

 

“Okay,” Noctis agrees, grinning.

 

Prompto hands the keys over. As nice as it is driving Noct’s Maserati around, he’d much rather lounge in the passenger’s seat and give Noctis the honors.

 

“I’ve missed this car,” Noctis admits with a laugh, climbing in. Prompto loops around to the passenger’s side and hops in. He’s gonna get to _finally_ see what this acting thing is like, he’ll get to go _behind the scenes_ at a movie studio, and hell, Regis’s idle warning is the absolute last thing in the back of Prompto’s mind right now.

 

And hell, they’re apparently house-sitting this giant mansion, too?

 

Okay, life is pretty good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this update came late. there's plot if you squint, but honestly, i just wanted to write dad antics. 
> 
> honestly, celeb AU is currently our forgotten eldest child, so updates may be a little slow for a while. ): sorry guys! 
> 
> Numi and I are collaborating for Kinktober + Promptober/Noctober and we've got a little joint Incubus AU! It's... well, it's a lot of smut, but it's _us_ and she and I work really well together, so there will eventually be a cobbled together plot! So if you want some silly demon Promptis antics + bonus art, [go check it out!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12237969/chapters/27805023)


	22. Between a Golf Cart and a Hard Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto's got a horrible sense of direction and uncanny bad luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE BACK AHHHHHHHH. thanks for being patient everyone. the spark was gone. i had SO MUCH FUN writing this chapter (and getting to write my current fav character lmfao) so i really hope it was worth the wait. ._.;

Prompto’s not really sure how the hell he ended up with this life. He’s been trying to figure that out, and he keeps just coming back to the fact that he’s fumbled his way into a relationship with someone who’s just as goddamn nerdy as he is. It just so happens, of course, that Noct’s a fucking famous actor.

 

A really nice round of lazy sex had happened when they got back to Prompto’s place. They’d dozed off during a movie, and when Prompto had woken to Noct’s arms wrapped tight around him, all he’d been able to do is smile and think about how _good_ things are going, despite everything.

 

Hell, it’s even a day where he doesn’t have to fight tooth and nail to get Noctis out of bed, because his boyfriend’s rousing on his own, grumbling and lifting a hand over his face. It’s still early morning, and the sun hasn’t fully risen. Prompto’s on his phone, browsing Twitter. He’d had to do the “verified account” thing, which is horrifying on its own, because… he’s just a random nobody. There’s still the little pangs of emotion, something that Prompto thinks _might_ be shame, at the prospect of simply being quasi-famous based on the fact that he’s a famous person’s boyfriend, but Ignis had told him to stop thinking about it that way.

 

Noct had, too, but Prompto still gets all star-struck sometimes when Noct talks.

 

“Turn your brightness down,” Noctis grumbles, as Prompto scrolls through his twitter account. He and Noct aren’t trending anymore, _finally,_ and life’s gone as normal as it can. There was some music festival and some scandal about a singer fucking up her routine on stage, and Prompto feels bad, but he can’t help but be a little relieved. Anything that keeps them out of the spotlight is good.

 

Prompto’s been _trying_ to keep a polite social media appearance up. Ignis keeps offering to do that for him, too, but Prompto can’t help it. He finds it _weird_ when people hire someone to pretend to be them on the internet. And it all comes full circle to the naïve concept that if people see him as a person, they’ll stop with this stupid Cinderella shit, or all the scandal that’s probably gonna low-key follow Prompto to the grave.

 

“It’s like six in the morning, dude,” Prompto replies, though he does swipe up on the screen and adjust the brightness lower, “what time we gotta be out of here?”

 

“We’ve gone time,” Noct sighs, closing his eyes again, but Prompto simply snuggles closer, and the angle of his phone has the screen glaring directly into Noct’s face. “… Prom, fuck, go back to _sleep.”_

 

“How ‘bout we get breakfast instead,” Prompto offers, his lips quirked up. Noctis is awful for his morning routine, honestly, but Prompto’s stomach is doing flips. He’s nervous about taking a step forward into Noct’s world. And yeah, Prompto wants to make his own way, but if he can make some sort of business connection, maybe actually get serious about photography? He’d be dumb to pass that up.

 

Noctis sighs, and blinks his eyes open again “… in a bit. Gimme a while. Gotta wake up.”

 

“Mmmkay,” Prompto agrees. He drapes himself over Noct’s warm, comfortable chest, and dips his head down to press a kiss there. He pauses, and laughs, as he’s browsing on his phone still. “Hey, Noct. They upped the character limit on Twitter. People are playing Connect Four with tweets now.”

 

Of all the things to get Noctis Caelum, Prompto’s chronically lazy celebrity boyfriend to perk up out of his sleepy stupor, it would figure that it’s the mention of a goddamn game. Noct’s reaching blindly for his phone though, and he finds it wedged underneath his pillow, between the mattress and the headboard, and he swipes through.

 

“That sounds really fucking stupid, Prom,” Noct says sleepily, “… you wanna play?”

 

Prompto grins and laughs, and he’s _totally_ already copied the format into a blank tweet that he’s tagged his dumb boyfriend in. “It’s on, Noct.”

 

Noctis rolls onto his side and tips his head and blinks at the phone, and he has to ask “… so how do you even play this?”

 

“What?!” Prompto gives Noct a playful shove, and then he’s going through the rules (“No, Noct, you can’t place that there—delete the tweet, you idiot!”) and they’re delving into a silly emoji Connect Four game on social media.

 

That’s how, an hour later, Prompto’s staring incredulously as Noctis successfully boxes him in. A fun fact: Prompto and his uncle both went through a _huge_ board game phase. Cor hadn’t had a ton of money when Prompto was younger, and communication had been… well, it hadn’t been easy. Prompto’s got his baggage. He’s still got the trust issues, and talking is hard, and even though he and his uncle really are properly becoming a family? They’d struggled. They’d found each other with old war movies and silly board games, so Prompto considers himself an old pro.

 

“How… the fuck did you just win?!” Prompto’s saying, staring down at his phone, and yeah, Noct’s gonna win in three places, no matter where he goes.

 

Noctis shrugs, “I like strategy games. Iggy used to make me play a bunch.”

 

Prompto feels like he has been _cheated._ Noct had no idea how to play this damn game, and here they are, curled up next to each other in bed, playing a dumb board game with emojis, and Prompto very thoroughly had his _ass kicked._ Not fucking fair.

 

“You’re a cheater, Noct!” Prompto grumbles.

 

Noctis makes the final move, and ends their Twitter board game thread after like thirty replies. Prompto grumbles, and sighs, and there’s suddenly a huge explosion of people liking and retweeting the post, and a whole lot of “Promptis is relationship goals!” kinds of replies.

 

Prompto’s stomach churns a little, but he can’t help but smile. It’s a strange, mixed feeling. Prompto’s not entirely sure that he’s ever gonna get used to literally _everything_ they’re doing being in the public eye, but… fuck, it’s kinda nice, to have people on their side for once, instead of just picking them apart.

 

“Are we _always_ gonna get this much attention, Noct?” Prompto asks, shoving his phone aside.

 

Noctis sighs, and shakes his head. “Probably. That’s why I stay off social media.”

 

Prompto likes to think that he’s okay with it, that he can _handle_ this… but there are moments when it’s overwhelming. It must be written all over his face, because Noct’s tugging him into his arms, pressing their foreheads together and offering up a dumb, little encouraging smile. It makes Prompto feel like he’s melting – how the fuck is Noct so good at that? – and his resolve solidifies again.

 

“Promise I’ll adjust to this, eventually,” Prompto sighs. And in the moment, he believes it, even though overall? He’s still not really so sure.

 

\---

 

So, naturally, they end up running late, because Noct’s a total diva about getting out of bed and getting ready. Prompto scrounges through the kitchen to find them breakfast, but he’s been awful about keeping his kitchen stocked, and they end up heading out with empty stomachs.

 

“It’s fine. There will be catering,” Noctis shrugs, as they zip through the freeway on the Maserati. Prompto’s a little terrified of how well Noct handles the car, weaving through lanes of traffic like it’s nothing, and it makes him feel a little guilty for stealing the car in the first place. Is he ever gonna get over this weird guilt? Maybe, probably, _hopefully._ Noctis likes him, Prompto keeps reminding himself. Everything is going well, after all that fucking mess they’d been through in the first place.

 

They’re both perfectly imperfect people.

 

Prompto’s never been to a movie set before. After all, why the hell would he? He’s all wide-eyed as security waves Noctis in, as they get parked in a heavily surveilled parking garage and escorted inside. Prompto isn’t sure what he expected, but it’s bustling with lots of people. Noctis seems familiar with most of them, offering up a tired smile – his _fake, polite_ smile, Prompto’s come to learn – as he’s escorted to a side room.

 

At least they’ve gotten here unscathed. Prompto’s been on edge all morning, and it’s only as he flops down onto the couch in Noct’s dressing room that he realizes he’s been carrying some tension with him. He doesn’t know what he’s so afraid of. Maybe the possibility of paparazzi stalking them everywhere? Of being jumped again? His mind’s a total mess.

 

“Told you there’d be food,” Noctis says, settling down on the couch next to Prompto, nudging their shoulders together as he leans over to grab a box off the side table. There’s a bunch of assorted fruit and some delicious looking pastries. Noct pointedly ignores the fruit and goes for a chocolate croissant, and Prompto hovers over the healthy stuff before internally saying _fuck it,_ and going for a muffin. Whatever. At least it’s a carrot muffin. Healthy, right?

 

“So, what’s the plan?” Prompto asks, his voice muffled as he crams muffin in his face.

 

Noct’s nibbling on the edge of a croissant. Prompto’s starting to pick up on some details about him. As easy-going as Noct is, especially about his career, he seems a little uneasy. Nervous, almost. Noct’s appetite is always spotty, but he doesn’t eat much when he’s nervous. It’s the exact opposite of Prompto.

 

“I wanted to give you a studio tour,” Noctis says, slowly. “… I dunno if there’s time to see everything, though. I got you a visitor badge, there’s some areas that are off-limits, but you should be able to wander around. It’s a lot of boring shit, Prom, they wanna film some promotional stuff today.”

 

Prompto nods slowly. He doesn’t quite get how _filming a fucking movie_ is boring, ‘promotional stuff’ or not, but he doesn’t point that out. It’s glaringly obvious, sometimes, that they come from totally different worlds.

 

“Think I can make friends with a photographer? I bet their cameras are _really_ nice…” Prompto laughs a little. He’s mostly joking. _Mostly._

 

“If I know any of the photographers, I’ll introduce you,” Noctis replies, “but you’re pretty charming, Prom. Probably won’t need my help there.”

 

Prompto’s torn between flushing and teasing right back, but there’s a knock on Noct’s door, and a makeup artist rushing in with a bunch of fancy products that Prompto’s only dreamed of owning. Noctis groans, but Prompto outright _sees_ the switch in his expression, as Noct puts on his actor face. He hands his half-eaten croissant to Prompto, and pulls himself up off the couch.

 

So, the good side of all this is that Prompto gets some _really good_ makeup tips. He’s a bit of a hoverer, all overenthusiastic, but the makeup artist is nice enough about it. It’s not fair, of course, that Prompto has the world’s most attractive boyfriend and he’s _not_ allowed to touch, but Noct offers him a knowing smile, as he’s about to be rushed off.

 

“Badge,” Noct says, handing over a lanyard with a guest pass on it. “We were _supposed_ to be filming in studio thirteen, but I guess it was taking too long to clear it out. They moved us to fifteen.”

 

Prompto nods, trying his best to take it in. He’s trash at directions, anyway, and will probably have to ask someone for help finding the place anyway.

 

“Anything I should know? Besides _everything?_ ” Prompto asks, doing his best to sound teasing and not totally overwhelmed.

 

“You can hide in the dressing room if you want,” Noctis shrugs, “but it’s really not so bad. _Most_ people know who you are. Ignis is on his way. I texted him, and you can wait for him here, if you want—”

 

Noctis breaks off and rolls his eyes, because his phone’s ringing and there’s another knock on the door. He leans in, steals a quick kiss, and Prompto tries not to feel _too_ overwhelmed. “Okay. I gotta go, Prom. Confidential stuff first. Meet me at fifteen? Wait for Ignis if you’re too freaked out. _Oh,_ and I’m supposed to get you to sign a bunch of NDAs so just pretend you did that…”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Prompto replies, steeling his voice, and honestly? He really thinks he will be.

 

After all, this is pretty cool. It’s not like there’s cameras in his face and the internet staring him down. Prompto chews on another pastry as Noct rushes off, his hair and makeup absolutely _pristine,_ probably to get a briefing by some important person or another, or fitted for whatever clothes he has to wear. Prompto’s not sure. He’s gonna have to ask for an actual description of what all this entails.

 

For the moment, he thumbs through his phone. He does debate texting Ignis, but… well, Prompto’s curiosity is piquing. So, he shoves his phone back in his pocket, downs the rest of his Danish, and fidgets with the pass Noct’s given him. Noctis had _told_ him he could explore, and Prompto would be dumb to turn down that opportunity, right?

 

Prompto does intend to go to the studio Noctis told him to, as well. Studio Fifteen. It can’t be that hard to find. Prompto’s directions suck though, and he realizes, once he gets out of Noct’s dressing room and down the hall, that he doesn’t even _remember_ what room is Noct’s.

 

Well, fuck. So much for the ‘going back and waiting for Ignis’ plan.

 

Film studios, it turns out, are actually pretty boring. The hallways are wide and bustling with people with fancy equipment. A couple eye Prompto, but then their eyes drift down to the badge, they nod, and they continue on their way. Prompto’s surprised by how informal the whole thing is, but then again, getting a guest pass is probably an ordeal. Noctis had brushed over the whole ‘you’re supposed to sign a bunch of NDAs’ thing, and… well, given how prolific their damn relationship is, anyone in this stupid industry probably knows who he is anyway.

 

Details. The important thing is: Prompto manages to get horribly, utterly lost in this hellish maze of fame and glamor, and it’s not like any of this story is realistic anyway.

 

In fact, even though he should logically be able to find his way, going in chronological order, the campus that makes up the studio doesn’t actually seem to have any real, sensible layout to it. The various buildings are connected via underground tunnels, or so Prompto discovers, but he pops up somewhere completely different from what he expected. He checks his badge on a door that leads outside, propping it open with his toe, and when it seems to _also_ let him back in, he makes his way outside, across a paved area that’s in the shade of what appears to be a movie set, with tall, fake buildings and everything. It looks like a city-scape, though from behind, it’s not quite as impressive as it surely is with the correct special effects and angles to make the buildings look like more than just plywood with painted fronts.

 

“Ignis is gonna kill me,” Prompto mumbles to nobody in particular – talking to himself is a nasty habit, but he really is _totally_ lost, somehow inexplicably between studio three and seven – as he tugs out his phone. His reception, of course, is total shit, so even when Ignis _does_ show up, good luck getting through to him.

 

Of course, Prompto’s luck is still miraculously shitty. It takes a special kind of person to be as cursed as Prompto is, really, because in that exact moment, he hears a _very_ familiar voice, and he outright groans. The last thing Prompto wants, after all, is to be cornered by that asshole paparazzi who _shouldn’t even be on this damn set._

“ _Obviously_ I know to use discretion, what do you mistake me for? An _amateur?”_

Prompto’s quick instincts kick in, at least, and he ducks down, crouching behind the first thing he can find. Of course, it just so happens to be a row of golf carts that are presumably used to zip people around between studios. The pavement scrapes at his knees through his jeans, but he ducks his head down.

 

So okay, Prompto’s mind is trying to sort all this out. Dino Ghiranze isn’t _really_ stalking him. He’s telling himself this. It’s not that much of a coincidence for him to be at a film studio. He’d immediately jumped to conclusions assuming he shouldn’t be here, because asshole or not, Dino _does_ have a television show. Prompto isn’t industry-savvy enough to have any real concept about whether or not he _should_ be here.

 

(The answer is that he _shouldn’t,_ and first instincts are always right, but hell – it’s been well established that Prompto’s instincts aren’t quite the sharpest.)

 

It’s just his luck, too, that the footsteps stop, and Prompto, staring from behind a golf cart, gets a glimpse of Dino, wearing a tan suit and a cranberry-coloured tie that is somehow so much _worse_ than the turquoise. Colour theory be damned, it’s hideous.

 

Dino’s talking, and Prompto glances around wildly, before he realizes he’s talking on the phone. He relaxes, just a little, but of course, the smart-ass stops in front of his hiding place, and he’s pacing, almost nervously.

 

“ _Yes,_ my sources say they’re both here. They’re good sources—yes, _sir,_ I do have sources other than you…” Dino’s saying, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and he sounds irritated. Okay, so it’s annoyed pacing, not nervous. That makes more sense.

 

The smart thing for Prompto to do would be to record some of this, but he’s too busy debating whether it’s worth taking off. He could absolutely dodge Dino. He’d smacked him out of the way when he’d been confronted at college while he and Noct were still arguing. It can’t be that hard to do it again. Prompto _really_ doesn’t wanna start a fight though. He also doesn’t want to cause a scene the one time Noct invites him somewhere important.

 

Decisions.

 

“They’ve started filming. I doubt I can get on the set, but there are _other_ ways,” Dino continues, his accent lilting, his voice still carrying obvious hints of irritation. “With the Caelums involved, I’m sure it won’t be _too_ hard to stir up a scandal. His pretty little boy-toy is fresh blood, he’ll be easy enough to—”

 

Of course, Prompto fucks it up, and he jumps to attention because _shit,_ that’s Noctis he’s talking about, and that’s _him_ by association, and he’d been so _sure_ that Dino had been trailing him, and that’s some sort of confirmation. It also means that Prompto’s elbow knocks into the side of the stupid little golf cart he’s crouched behind, and there’s a _thud_ and a pain shooting up his arm from the awkward contact. Prompto hisses, but there’s a pause.

 

“I’ll have to call you back,” Dino says, quietly, “something came up.”

 

Fuck.

 

Prompto’s about ready to take the fuck off. He’s a runner, after all. That isn’t what he’s worried about though. He may be dumb at this celebrity thing, but he’s starting to realize that the actual _being caught_ part isn’t nearly as bad as Dino Ghiranze seeing him and attempting to make his life hell _again._ Because, of course, Prompto is very damn aware that he isn’t supposed to be overhearing this conversation, and hiding behind some equipment and eavesdropping is a bad place to be.

 

Continuing the series of unlikely coincidence, however, luck is on Prompto’s side this one damn time. Because, just as Prompto’s about to make his mood, Dino Ghiranze approaching to peer over the side of the line of golf carts, there’s another voice, silky and smooth and _dripping_ contempt.

 

“This studio has gone downhill, _yes,_ but I daresay they still don’t allow _your_ filth in here. What are you doing here, Ghiranze?”

 

Prompto watches, wide-eyed, as Dino immediately jumps back, curses under his breath, and rolls his eyes. “ _Ravus._ I see you’re still a diva.”

 

“And you’re still a slimy, attention-starved weasel. I suggest you leave before I call security.”

 

_Ravus._

 

Prompto knows that name. He’s Luna’s brother. Noctis has also mentioned – briefly – that they don’t get along, but right now, Prompto’s never been happier to see someone. Dino Ghiranze is retreating, with the threat of security calling, and that means Prompto can wait until he’s gone and _maybe_ ask for directions. He probably looks stupid, crouched down and hiding, but Ravus is Luna’s brother, right? Prompto’s willing to give it a shot.

 

He doesn’t have to make an appearance though, because as soon as Dino is presumably gone from the scene – Prompto can’t see, from his angle – Ravus heaves a great, annoyed sigh.

 

“You can stop hiding back there. You look foolish.”

 

Prompto flushes bright and stands up. His elbow’s still aching from banging it, and his jeans are all scuffed. “I—sorry. Thanks for saving me. I’m kinda lost, I’m trying to find my boyfriend, I think you kn—”

 

“You’re Prompto Argentum,” Ravus replies, his voice lazy and contemptuous as he looks Prompto over. He seems horribly unimpressed, and Prompto… well, he can understand why. The other man looks _immaculate,_ silvery hair perfectly styled. He’s got two different coloured eyes, one a bright violet, the other brilliantly blue, and Prompto’s always wondered, every time he’s seen photos, if they’re real or contacts. It’s a question that he also knows, immediately and instinctively, to never ask.

 

“I—yeah. You’re Luna’s brother, right?” Prompto replies, rubbing at the back of his head, mussing his hair up even more. “I work with her. She’s one of my best friends.”

 

Ravus eyes him grudgingly, before nodding curtly, but when he speaks again, his voice seems to have lost _some_ of the iciness. “My sister has mentioned you. She likes you. It’s a shame you have such poor tastes in romantic partners.”

 

Prompto opens his mouth to argue, thinks better of it, and shuts his mouth. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly a winner either. Thanks though. Dino’s an asshole, I _really_ didn’t wanna get cornered by him.”

 

“He shouldn’t have been here,” Ravus replies, lightly, though his eyes hover over the guest pass Prompto’s wearing. “Caelum should know better than to _abandon_ his guest, as well. Very unprofessional, you’re lucky I found you.”

 

“He didn’t abandon me,” Prompto points out, his cheeks still flushed, though he’s moved to stand at Ravus’s side. The other man _towers_ over him, and maybe Prompto would feel intimidated, but his head’s spinning about everything. He’s pretty damn certain he heard something he shouldn’t have, and he needs to tell Noctis, even though Prompto doesn’t even know where to begin with that. And even though he gets the feeling that Ravus is kind of a dick, Prompto’s still just grateful for how the whole scene’s played out.

 

“I think you need to examine the definition of the word,” Ravus says, shrugging.

 

“I got lost,” Prompto admits, with a heaving sigh. “This place is confusing. No idea how I ended up here.”

 

Ravus offers him a long, withering look, and Prompto feels his cheeks heat up even _more,_ impossibly. He’s not sure how he feels about the other man, and he has no idea what Ravus is thinking. Prompto really used to think he was a decent judge of character, until he started meeting all these rich, famous people, and now? He just has no fucking clue anymore.

 

“Come on, then,” Ravus finally replies, rolling his eyes, and his tone suggests he’s making a _great_ sacrifice. “I’ll take you to Caelum. And _don’t_ assume I’m doing you any favours. I was heading there anyway.”

 

“Right,” Prompto says, but he manages a little smile, and he thinks that he’s got his blushing problem under control now. “Kinda works out, I guess. I can finally tell Luna that I’ve met you.”

 

That, at least, awards Prompto a small, tight-lipped smile, and he feels like that’s a great victory.

 

Ravus, from that point on, lightens up some. He seems happy enough to play tour guide, establishing that he knows far more than Prompto does about the studio. That, of course, makes sense, since Prompto’s never been here before, and Ravus is apparently a regular.

 

“Those studios,” Ravus points, as they make their way out of the lot, heading towards a door back inside, “are known as Development Hell. Studio Three has had the same foolish work-in-progress project for nearly ten years. Seven is slightly better, but the director is working on both projects, and he’s _abysmal_ at throwing together a coherent script.”

 

Prompto blinks. “Noct was saying this new thing he’s in took forever too. That normal?”

 

“For this place, yes,” Ravus replies lightly, holding open the door for Prompto, and leading the way down a hallway, into a stairwell, and down into the underground maze that connects everything.

 

“Starting to think I’m better off not knowing any of this,” Prompto replies, managing a quiet little laugh. Oddly enough, he kinda likes this Ravus. He’s sarcastic and seriously jaded by the industry, clearly, but underneath the diva act, Prompto gets the feeling that he’s not a bad guy.

 

Ravus shrugs. “The industry is a beast. My advice? Stay out of it as much as you can.”

 

“Kinda impossible, dating Noct,” Prompto replies. He’s doing his best to carry on a conversation and to memorize where they’re going, but it’s a bit impossible. Mostly, it’s long hallways, with just enough turns to muddle everything in his mind.

 

At one point, someone stops Prompto, staring him down. “Aren’t you supposed to be on set?” the woman asks, a hand on her hip, looking _incredibly_ stressed out.

 

“Set? What?” Prompto asks, looking somewhat helplessly at Ravus.

 

“That new ninja series, you’re in it, right?” the woman asks, before Ravus reaches over, lifts Prompto’s guest pass off his chest, and waves it in the woman’s face.

 

“Wrong person, _excuse us,_ we have somewhere to be,” Ravus says, leading Prompto off again, leaving a confused looking woman blinking and muttering about ‘these blondes all look the same.’ And apparently that _is_ true, because another person stops Prompto to ask why he’s even at the studio today because they aren’t filming in Studio Seven. (And, in fact, they haven’t filmed in there in _years.)_

 

“Why does all the weird shit happen to me?” Prompto groans, when Ravus leads them outside again, across the lot to Fifteen.

 

Ravus shrugs. “You merely have one of those cute, friendly faces. Easily mistaken for someone else, though I might say that’s not a bad thing.”

 

“Thanks,” Prompto grumbles. He’s fairly concerned that Ravus is _flirting_ with him, but he’s also relieved to finally be in the right place. Ravus hasn’t been _that_ bad, despite everything Noct’s grumbled about, and he really is gonna have to tell Luna all about it. The set is bustling, and Prompto tries to look around, but immediately he’s being accosted by Noctis, who was apparently waiting on him (and holding up half the set, because he’s a diva actor, when his damn boyfriend is missing.)

 

“Prom, holy shit, _where_ were you?!” Noct’s voice has an edge of panic to it, and a whole lot of relief, as he swoops in, an energy drink in one hand, pulling Prompto into a half-hug, eyes all lit up with blue fire, and a whole lot of other cliché terms that fit him very perfectly, given that he’s a gorgeous actor.

 

“He was _lost,_ because certain idiot princesses forgot that this place is an incomprehensible maze to those who haven’t grown up with a life of privilege,” Ravus replies, that hostility returning to his voice full-force now that Noct’s here. Prompto had, momentarily, forgotten all about Ravus, and he flushes, pulling his face out of Noct’s neck and taking a step back.

 

“Right. Uh, Noct, Ravus kinda saved my ass. I got horribly lost by uh… Studio… seven?”

 

Noctis blinks. “That’s the complete opposite way, Prom, how’d you end up there?”

 

“Probably because his _idiotic boyfriend_ abandoned him,” Ravus says silkily, and Noct’s expression shifts from concern, to annoyance, to outright _irritation,_ to something Prompto can’t quite discern, within seconds.

 

“Least this idiot can _get_ a boyfriend. And apparently all the good roles, too,” Noctis replies. “C’mon, Ravus, your shelf might be empty from me stealing all the awards, but don’t take it out on Prom.”

 

Prompto has a feeling he’s about to cause a fight, and that’s the _last_ thing he wants. “Noct! He was really nice, I promise, showed me around and everything! Perfect gentleman!”

 

Ravus simply shakes his head and the smile he offers Prompto is tight-lipped and fleeting, before he’s glaring daggers in Noct’s direction again. “Doing your dirty work yet again, Caelum. Gave your boyfriend the full tour, since _you_ were too busy.”

 

“…. Thanks,” Noctis sighs, and he only mutters the words indignantly because Prompto’s offering up a pleading look that’s screaming, ‘please don’t start a scene’ and they’re apparently getting better at silent communication, because Noct’s getting the hint. “Prom’s friends with your sister, by the way.”  


“So I’ve heard,” Ravus says. “She talks about _both_ of you. Fantastic, Caelum, you had to infiltrate my career and now my family life, as well.”

 

“Yes, because I _intentionally_ make your life hell,” Noctis grumbles. Prompto wants to point out that Noct’s absolutely antagonizing Ravus right now, but then again, Ravus is apparently being the Salt Queen, so he doesn’t really know who to place the blame on. The two just seem to hate each other.

 

“Clearly,” Ravus replies, and before Prompto can even think of anything to say, his attention’s rounding back to Prompto anyway. “It was a _pleasure_ to meet you, Prompto. If you ever decide to up your standards and find a real partner who will treat you well, ask Luna for my number, hm?”

 

Prompto can’t help but gawk. Noctis looks like he’s about ready to lose his shit. Of course, Ravus looks _terribly_ pleased with himself, and Prompto just can’t decide if he’s flattered in a really weird way, intimidated, annoyed with being treated this way, or just annoyed that Ravus is _clearly_ trying to piss off Noct again.

 

“Uh, thanks,” is what he says, politely, instead, “but I’m good.”

 

“Ravus, I swear I’m gonna kill you one of these days—” Noctis starts to say, but Ravus simply laughs, looking _very_ pleased with himself.

 

“Manners, Caelum. We have filming to do.”

 

Prompto can’t decide if his life is simply a soap opera now, or if this is _actually_ what the whole industry is like. It’s probably a combination of the two. Noct’s grumbling and muttering under his breath as he presses a kiss to Prompto’s forehead, ushers him over to a place where he can sit – near the snacks, thank goodness, because all this excitement has made him hungry – and this time, Prompto stays put and watches his boyfriend work his magic. Noct really _is_ a decent actor, and he looks fantastic under the bright studio lights, putting aside his obvious annoyance and exhaustion and general discomfort with a mask that even manages to make Prompto forget what’s just happened.

 

“So, _you’re_ Prompto,” a kind-faced woman says, sitting down next to Prompto and reaching for a bagel. “Heard a lot about you. Working with Noctis was a _nightmare_ while you two were having your… issues.”

 

Prompto sighs. He’s never going to live that down. “Don’t remind me.”

 

“You know, you look familiar. Remind me of a couple of other actors who film here,” the woman continues.

 

“So I’ve heard,” Prompto sighs, yet again. This whole day has turned out _very_ differently than he’d expected. That line of thought, quite suddenly, reminds him of the whole Dino experience, and it feels like he’s plunging face-first into a shock of freezing cold water. Prompto’s just a college kid, with a relatively normal life, and he’s absolutely not made for these over-the-top theatrics.

 

His life really _has_ become some weird soap opera, hasn’t it? It feels more like fiction than anything.

 

“Noctis mentioned you’re a photographer,” the woman says, with a smile. “Just so happens I’m one, too. These affairs are boring as hell, you want to shadow me?”

 

Prompto’s interest immediately shifts, because why the hell would dumb issues like Dino Ghiranze be important when suddenly he’s being offered with one hell of a possibility. He makes quick work of downing the donut he’s chewing on – almost choking in the process, and making himself look like quite the sputtering fool – before managing a few words. “Is that _allowed?”_

 

“Honey,” the woman says, with a knowing smile, “You’re dating Noctis Caelum. Pretty much _anything_ is allowed, at this point. Your life’s going to be hell with all the publicity that boy gets. You might as well enjoy the perks that go with it.”

 

Prompto almost – _almost –_ points out that he doesn’t want any of these perks. He doesn’t want handouts, or freebies, and he wants to make his own career. But… well, Noct’s Maserati drives really nice, and it’s been a hell of a day. His time with Noctis, in general, has been a goddamn roller coaster. And is it really so bad, accepting help every once in a while?

 

His uncle would tell him to go for it. Noctis probably _arranged_ this, damn him, and that makes Prompto smile.

 

“Sure, why the hell not,” he says, and it feels like he’s taken another step forward, into a world he can’t come back from, but that can’t be a bad thing, right?

 

\---

 

It’s a long day. Prompto gets a business card with a phone number on it, though, and he gets a nice bit of experience with equipment _way_ fancier than anything he’s gotten to mess around with at college. There’d been a handful of compliments too, things like ‘you’re actually not bad,’ and talk of ‘send me your portfolio and I’ll give you some tips’ and it’s a lot happening all at once.

 

“You totally planned that, didn’t you?” Prompto accuses, when they end up back at Noct’s place. Noctis looks exhausted. He’s got his makeup on still, and his hair’s been styled immaculately, but even that doesn’t mask the circles under his eyes.

 

“Maybe,” Noct agrees. His sports jacket ends up thrown over the arm of the couch. Prompto’s carrying take out boxes and he gets them set down on the coffee table. They collapse onto the couch, half-sprawled, Noct’s legs thrown up over Prompto’s lap as they start to eat. Noct’s picking at his food, as usual, and Prompto feels a little self-conscious because he’s eaten his weight in junk food today, but the excitement is still with him.

 

“Asshole,” Prompto says, lightly, but it’s all teasing, and the smile he gives Noctis betrays everything. “…that was really nice of you, though.”

 

Noctis shrugs. “Photography’s a hard industry to break into. I know you wanna do it on your own, but it’s your talent that will get you there. I’m just… shining a spotlight on it.”

 

Prompto flushes. He doesn’t quite know what to say there. “You have no idea what a talented photographer even looks like, Noctis. You’re just flattering me.”

 

“I know you take good photos,” Noctis says, with a smile. “Ignis says so too. And _he’s_ the one messing around with a model. Plus, he knows _everything.”_

It shouldn’t surprise Prompto that Ignis has seen his photos, but for some reason, that catches him off guard. He leans forward a little – groaning at the effort of leaning over Noct’s legs thrown heavy across his lap – to put his food down on the table. “Ignis has seen my stuff?”

 

“Ignis tracks both of our social media accounts,” Noctis replies, airily. “He likes your Instagram.”

 

“That’s not creepy or anything,” Prompto grumbles. He knows, of course, why Ignis does it. They’d already gotten a lecture earlier, when Ignis had showed up at the studio, about ‘please get private accounts to play dumb twitter games together, you’re going to put me in an early grave.’ He has a point, really.

 

“Speaking of creeps,” Prompto says, suddenly, though, inspired by that line of thought. He’d meant to bring up the whole Dino thing earlier, but he’d been sidetracked a whole lot. And he feels bad now, when Noctis clearly just wants a shower and to collapse in bed, but Prompto’s pretty sure it’s important, somehow. He recounts the whole story, as quickly as he can, brushing over the whole Ravus interaction, because he doesn’t feel like fueling that particular fire again.

 

“It’s possible that he was here as a guest,” Noctis says, slowly, after Prompto finishes talking. “There’s a lot of projects filming right now.”

 

Prompto’s fairly certain he knows how to read Noctis by now. At least, somewhat. Noct seems skeptical of his own words, and the way he’s fidgeting a little totally gives him a way. He might be an actor, but the closer they get, the more the mask seems to slip away. He likes it.

 

“He was talking about you. About _us._ And the second Ravus threatened to call security, he took off,” Prompto points out. Noctis already knows that, of course. “… I’m kinda freaked out, Noct. It’s dumb, I know he’ll just harass us, or whatever, but I just wanna… well. _Try_ to be normal.”

 

“You want to stay here for a while? Till things die down? The security is better here,” Noctis points out.

 

Prompto knows he’s not pressuring him, even though Noct’s given him the key to his place, but he hates the idea of being bullied out of his own home. “No,” he says, quickly. “I’ll be fine, Noct. I’ve learned from my mistakes, believe it or not. I’ll just… lay low, I guess.”

 

Noctis doesn’t seem convinced. His eyes bore into Prompto’s, but he slowly nods. “Whatever. We’re house sitting for Dad soon, anyway. Stay here tonight, at least?”

 

That much seems like a good idea. Prompto smiles, and nods, and he does his damn best to push it all aside, because otherwise, he’ll go crazy, wondering what the hell is happening. Living in a world where he can be oblivious is better, and so much easier, after all.

 

“Yeah. I’ll stay.”

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, twitter @thatdest; tumblr @destatree. numi's the inspiration for all of this, and she's @numinoceur on all social media.
> 
> thank you again everyone for reading. we took a hiatus because of negative feedback, lack of inspiration, reaching a breaking point with fandom, etc. so i just wanna reiterate: i thrive on comments, asks, mentions, etc. i might not reply to all of them because i've got like 4 other WIPs i'm writing currently, but EVERY COMMENT is read and cherished and i love it so much. <3
> 
> i really really REALLY had fun with this chapter so hopefully my writing is back to my normal 'style' with this fic and reflects that. <3 again, THANK YOU FOR READING!


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